•ViGliOR 1 



A SEGMENT FROM 
THE ETERNAL CYCLE 




h '! :■. V J. A \ 



Class -.SlL^HE 

Book.__ - 

Coppght N^. 




SI G N O R 



SIGNOR 

A SEGMENT FROM THE ETERNAL CYCLE 



SIGNOR 

A SEGMENT FROM THE ETERNAL 
CYCLE 

BY 

MULIER -^J^^iiA 



'Never the spirit was born; 
The spirit shall cease to be never. 
Never was time it was not; 
IJnd and beginning are dreams. 

'Birthless and deathless, and changeless, 
Remaineth the spirit forever; 
Death hath not touched it at all. 
Dead though the house of it seems." 

— Translation of "Bhagavad Gita" by Edwin Arnold. 



PublisKed hy 

THE GNOSTIC PRESS 

San Diego, Cal. 



;)iiiiiiihiiiiiiiiMiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 



CopyrigKt 1917 

CHARLES ELI HIGGINS 
San Diego, CaL 



FEB 12 1918 

J. F. ROWNY PRESS. LOS ANGELES 

©CI.A481699 



DEDICATION 

This second volume in the series I wish to 
dedicate to all mankind : 

To those who once held lofty ideals which 
have fallen by the way I would say: There is 
nothing lost; but every step taken in the right 
direction tells for you now as it will in the day 
that is coming for all, for now as then perfect 
peace and happiness reign. 

To him who, through ignorance or intent, 
has not striven to reach the heights, but has 
been content to live wrapped in slothfulness 
and the senses, there will come a day — a period 
— when, with eyes opened wide to the necessity 
of growing, the light will penetrate the dark- 
ness ; and, through his atonement, which is true 
repentance, he will find the path, with tra- 
velers on the long road to help him ascend the 
heights. 

To those under more fortunate circum- 
stances in this incarnation, — the outgrowth of 
lessons learned before, — I would emphasize 
an old maxim: '^Example is better than pre- 
cept." Regarding those less fortunate than 
yourselves, remember that we are not here to 
condemn, but to lift up through Love, which 
is the fulfilment of the Law. 



"We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; 
In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives 
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. 
Life's but a means unto an end, that end 
Beginning, mean, and end to all things, — God." 



— Philip James Bailey. 



"Listen to the Salutation of the Dawn! 

Look to this Day! 
For it is Life, the very Life of Life. 
In its brief course lie all the 
Varieties and Realities of your existence: 
The Bliss of Growth, 

The Glory of Action, 

The Splendor of Beauty. 
For yesterday is but a Dream 
And tomorrow only a Vision. 
But today well lived makes 
Every yesterday a Dream of happiness 
And every tomorrow a Vision of Hope. 
Look well therefore to this Day: 
Such is the Salutation of the Dawn." 

— From the Sanscrit. 

FOREWORD 

Those readers, who have read with interest 
"Sojourners by the Wayside," will, I feel sure, 
in this, the second of my series of four, find 
much to quicken, not only their imagination, 
but their apprehension of the importance of 
understanding the fundamental truth of Rein- 
carnation. 

As they acquire this knowledge, which per- 
tains to the Eternal Law of vibration, color, 
aura, cycles, evolution and involution, the soul 
nature expresses itself. Color, sound, aura, — 
all help man to understand the astral planes, 
while the different incarnations, extending 
over countless aeons, teach the true relation of 
the soul not only to mankind but to all created 
things. 

In the arrangement of these incarnations, I 
am governed by their order of presentation to 
me. As I have explained they are at first 

-J 



fragmentary, then, as I see more clearly, I 
make my call upon the Universal Mind, not 
for sequences, but for that which will give me 
a picture of the incarnation which I desire to 
delineate. When, through sight, sound and 
the Inner Voice, this has been given me, I lay 
it aside and take up another and yet another. 
I arrange these for the number of the series 
which I am writing. Thus my reader will 
perceive that in this second volume, that of the 
Stone Age has been chosen for the opening 
chapter, while for certain reasons I take my 
title from the principal character in my second 
chapter. 

The reader will see, as the remaining vol- 
umes are given out to the public, that many of 
the incarnations therein contained may ante- 
date those in the first two copies, while others 
may be of much later period and of clearer 
philosophical thought. I feel it due to my 
readers to make this explanation, as in 
"Signor" my first chapter antedates by aeons 
the opening chapter of '^Sojourners by the 
Wayside." 

The favorable manner in which this latter 
has been received has made me desirous of 
writing at a later date a treatise — an addition 
to the many scientific works now before the 
public — whose chapters will present philoso- 
phically each subject which I will have 
touched upon already in narrative form. 



Table of Contents 



Foreword 5 

I The Uprush 11 

II The Cataclysm 24 

III The Reckoning 48 

IV With Clear Vision .... 67 
V The Solving of Life's Problems 88 

VI The Treasure 110 

VII The Two Fragments .... 137 

VIII True Nobility 156 

IX Visions OF Two Worlds . . .192 
Afterword 218 



vii 



NOTE OF EXPLANATION 



The Readers who have become inter- 
ested through my first volume in this 
series with the characters of Hermes, 
Afreeda, Clione, Adone and others, will 
perchance like to trace them in the ensu- 
ing chapters of this my second volume. 



CHAPTER I 



THE UPRUSH 



"I died from the mineral and I became the plant; 
I died from the plant and I rose the animal; 
I died from the animal and I became man. 
Why then should I fear that in dying I become less? 
Yet I again shall die from the man 
That I may assume the form of the angels. 
And even the angels must I further win, 
(All things perish except His Face). 
Offered up once again from the angel, I shall become 
That which entereth not the imagination, that shall I become! 
lyet me then become non-existence, for non-existence like the organ 
Pealeth unto me, 'Verily unto Him do we return.' " 



— Jellaluddin. 



Admah 

The Teacher. . . 
The First Born 

EVERA 



. . Hermes 
Johannesa 



. .Adone 
Afreeda 



ix 



THE UPRUSH 



VERHEAD— a gray forbidding sky. 



Around, — a great primeval forest: trees 



seemingly centuries old; trees in the 
making. Dense thickets, — dun-colored; great 
jagged rocks, — rocks of lava formation; fields 
upon fields of granite; mountains, towering 
high in air, at their base dried herbage, — 
blotches on the face of nature; turgid streams, 
in whose depths lampreys pursue their slug- 
gish existence. 

In all these parts, no sign of animal life: 
though, according to the law of evolution, 
known to exist. 

As this is presented to me, I sense a feeling 
of depression; for I miss the bright rays of the 
sun, the flowering shrubs, and, above all, the 
tender notes of bird life. 

My first impression is of a land desolate, 
for not a sound breaks the profound stillness. 
I seem to wander over miles and miles, where 
every aspect of nature makes me long to 
change my surroundings and flee from the dull 
green of foliage, the giant limbs, scarcely 
clothed with verdure, to a more favored spot. 




[11] 



SiGNOR 



I have been wandering beside a narrow 
river with low banks, when, without any warn- 
ing, I see a man reclining. He is nude, — 
lying, partially turned on his face, with one 
sinewy arm beneath his head, the other thrown 
out to the left. He gives me the impression of 
being scarcely human. 

A sound evidently disturbs him ; he rises to 
a half sitting posture; and it is now that I 
recognize — man primitive! 

His head is long from forehead to base; and 
its flat surface is partially hidden by a thick 
growth of yellowish, red hair. The ears are 
very large and stand well out from the head. 
The eyes, — gray and deep-set, beneath pent 
brows; the forehead, — low and beetling; the 
upper part of the nose, — flat, while the nostrils 
are wide and distended. The weakness of the 
mouth is offset by the massive lower jaw. 

The whole face, which is long and some- 
what thin, is marked by three characteristics: 
dogged determination, ferocity, and a mixture 
of good will, — when the will is not crossed, — 
and a certain keenness and alertness. 

His frame is large, hands and feet in pro- 
portion ; while in height, he is above six feet. 

He is evidently unconscious of my presence. 
The feeling of timidity, which I at first experi- 
ence, leaves me, as the consciousness grows 



The Uprush 



upon me, that many, many centuries — as well 
as many changes — must have transpired, since 
he walked the earth; and that, after all, this is 
but a vision — a vision of an inhabitant of earth 
in the Stone Age. 

I hear a voice, which bids me call this man, 
'^Adamah." His complexion is of that reddish 
clay, which the name Adam indicates. 

He rises to his feet, tosses the long lock of 
hair, which droops over his forehead, back 
from his eyes with a quick shake of the head; 
and the whole expression of the face changes 
to one of keenness, — of intense listening. 

Evidently, some vibration of his aura is 
quickened, for I see, in the dull leadish color, 
which stands out — oblong in shape — some six 
inches from him, ripples, sending out fila- 
ments of a lighter gray from the head to the 
waist line ; while, through the trunk down to 
the knees, this color changes to a dull, reddish 
brown. 

As he stands there, — a picture, — masterful, 
quickened in every part, and yet uncertain as 
to the cause of this quickening, I am im- 
pressed with the vigor, the strength, and the 
tenacity of purpose which he expresses. 

In the distance, I see a face peering around 
a thicket. The eyes, — black in color, — speak 
of fear and yet of longing. It is a woman's 



SiGNOR 

face, — a young woman. A certain movement 
shows me long, black hair, streaming over her 
shoulders, a low forehead, oval face with weak 
chin ; while her large mouth discloses teeth of 
dazzling whiteness. 

Adamah is attracted in her direction. With 
a panther-like spring, he clears the river and, 
rushing up its opposite bank, starts in pursuit 
of the fleeing woman. She is tall, lithe and 
fleet of foot, but, despite her efforts, he gains 
upon her. She is breasting the side of a moun- 
tain; a great ravine crosses her path. 

As she crouches to spring across it, Adam- 
ah's hand comes down upon her bare shoulder, 
and, though they both totter on the edge of this 
ravine, his great strength makes it possible to 
retain his hold and yet spring backward to 
safety. 

Tossing her over his shoulder, he gives a 
low, chuckling laugh, as he continues his 
flight, still breasting the mountain, after a 
short detour of the ravine. 

When near the summit, he, with vigorous 
thrust, pushes aside tall bushes, disclosing the 
wide opening of a cave. Taking his captive to 
the extreme farther end, he tosses her down 
upon a rough bed made of boughs and dried 
leaves. Every gesture of Adamah is expres- 
sive, and it is by pantomine, rather than by 

[14] 



The Uprush 



speech, that he says: ''At last, you are mine, — 

where I go, you go : what I will, you do !" 

* * * 

Three days later, Adamah, when returning 
to his cave, senses trouble, — stops to listen. 
Stealthy feet warn him that the kinsmen of 
Evera have traced her to his lair. 

Entering the cave, he finds his woman 
struggling in the arms of a broad-shouldered 
man, and, without question or delay, fells the 
man to the ground with the butt end of his 
stone hatchet. 

Then, as calmly as though nothing had hap- 
pened, he bids Evera cook the fish on the hot 
coals; though on the floor lies the man, wel- 
tering in his blood. 

Those were the days when women admired 
men for their brute power. There had been a 
time when Evera had thought it would be 
happiness to belong to this man, lying before 
her, gasping for breath; but her three days in 
the cave had drawn her to Adamah. 

With the morning, Adamah picked up his 
hatchet and spear, and, without one glance at 
the man still breathing upon the floor, 
motioned Evera to follow. 

Down the southern slope of the mountain 
they went and, still bearing southward through 
a thick forest, they rounded the head of a large 



SiGNOR 

bay. Coming out on a stony ledge, they sat 
down beneath the shade of a tall tree, while 
Adamah gathered some small shell-fish, which 
they opened and ate without cooking. 

That night they were far away from the 
mountain, where the man lay dying, and, two 
days later, they had once more taken up daily 
existence in a cave, many miles from that one, 
to which Adamah had carried Evera after 
his successful pursuit. 

Several weeks passed by. One night Adamah 
did not return home. Four nights passed 
without Evera seeing him; then he walked in 
the same as usual, with the exception, that on 
his right arm was a livid circle and it was 
evident that he had been fighting; for his face 
was badly bruised and he limped as he walked. 

Evera asked no questions; she sat out water 
in a great earthen bowl, cooked the fish as 
usual, and waited for his disclosure. She 
knew the mark upon his arm was that of her 
people. 

Adamah made no explanation, but there had 
come to his face a look of resolve, which was 
not there before his absence. 

In those days, the awakening of certain traits 
came from daily experiences, as at the present; 
but, as nature was more plastic at that period 
in man, the physiognomy could be more easily 

[16] 



The Uprush 



read : for it was always that affecting the brute 
force in man which aroused thought and gave 
the impression of character, rather than the 
ethical, which, as yet, had not quickened the 
soul nature into expression. 

A feeling of undying hatred against Evera's 
people smouldered in Adamah; and a year 
later he worked out his vengeance by means of 
stirring up a strife between them and a war- 
like tribe, which was desirous of possessing the 
land held by his foe. 

It was about this time that a second child 
was born to him. He was now father of two 
sons, and, whether it was something that had 
quickened within him during his life with 
Evera, or the outgrowth of some former state 
of being, the two children bore indications of 
a higher grade of mentality, as well as more 
comeliness of face and form. 

* * * 

The lessons which reincarnation teaches us 
are varied. Here in the case of Adamah's 
children may be seen the working out of pre- 
vious incarnations, which have advanced them 
beyond these earthly parents. Yet, as it is 
essential to touch life at all points, they return 
into environments utterly dissimilar to the 
past; but, through some vital necessity for 
growth, or to work out wasted opportunities, 

[17] 



SiGNOR 



they have come to acquire in this Stone Age, 
through experience and effort, that which they 
failed to make their own in former incarna- 
tions. 

* * * 

Years passed by, and Adamah's famiiy 
steadily grew. At forty years of age, the num- 
ber of his children was fifteen. 

It was about this time that Adamah removed 
southward to a locality, where the climate was 
less severe, and in which the people, with 
whom he came in contact, had been instructed 
by a learned man from a distant country. 

There was awakened in Adamah and Evera 
a desire, that their children should be taught 
by this man ; and in both parents grew a pride 
in the results of this instruction. Adamah had 
made a rude shelter for their home, — for they 
no longer lived in caves as of yore, — and there 
every night he questioned his progeney as to 
that which had been taught them during the 
day; till he felt within himself a quickening of 
new aspirations, and the soul, slowly but 
surely, began to take control. 

At this time, seeing the aura of Adamah, I 
was struck by its change of color; for I recog- 
nized that the physical was being governed by 
the mental, and I knew that in this incarnation 
he had begun to climb the ladder of progress. 

[18] 



The Uprush 

One night, as Adamah was on his way home, 
he heard a strange sound behind him and 
hastily made for a tree large enough to cover 
him. The handle of his hatchet he held firmly 
in his right hand. 

Peering out into the dusk, he saw a tall, 
tawny creature, limping painfully, and his 
sympathies were aroused. 

Stepping from behind the tree, he moved 
fearlessly towards this strange object, and, for 
the first time in his life, put his hand on the 
head of a wolf-hound. He stooped, lifted up 
its foot, and, with a quick, dexterous jerk, 
drew from it a long, sharp thorn. 

The hound growled savagely, then, real- 
izing relief, reached out his velvety tongue 
and lapped Adamah's hand in gratitude. 
Something awoke in Adamah — and that some- 
thing was what we all experience, when we 
have done a good turn to some one, or some- 
thing, in distress. 

The hound followed to where Evera stood 
in the open doorway, and, from that time 
forth, adopted the whole family. 

The teacher, passing the next morning, saw 
him stretched out in front of the hut, and asked 
from whence he came. Adamah, who was 
near, related the circumstance of the evening 
before. 

[19] 



SiGNOR 



'^It is Strange — passing strange ! I have been 
in this vicinity for more than six years, and 
this is the first indication of animal life that I 
have seen in these parts. Treat him well and 
he will prove a good friend." 

The next five years passed quickly. Adamah 
and Evera had learned many things through 
their children. They possessed a finer sense 
of right and wrong. They had awakened to 
the necessity of covering their nakedness. 

Gradually that which the teacher taught the 
children aroused in them a different concep- 
tion of life, a different comprehension of what 
nature had striven to teach them. Now they 
could discriminate between the granite and 
lava formations, and also the effects of the 
glacial period. The trees spoke to them : some 
as indigenous to the soil, others as of seed 
borne hither in some mysterious manner from 
unknown lands. 

Here in the south, the sky took on color, the 
sun sent forth rays of warmth and brightness. 
Each day some new lesson was learned from 
nature, which added to their comfort and set 
up thought vibrations, whose activity steadily 
unfolded, — first through the astral, then 
through the soul-nature — aspirations for some- 
thing finer, something better than they had 
ever known. 

[20] 



The Uprush 



Thus the years passed on and the children 
grew from boys and girls into men and women. 

Thanks to their faithful teacher and to their 
desire to learn, Adamah and Evera, as they 
passed their three score years and ten, had the 
satisfaction of seeing that which they might 
not be able to express, but which sent quicken- 
ings through every part. These finer vibra- 
tions have changed them from something less 
than human into a fuller stature which indi- 
cates the demarcation, where man begins to 
unfold into the divine. 

Thus from one graduation to another, 
through experience, Adamah and Evera had 
touched the Central Source of all Being; and 
in this incarnation, having taken advantage 
of their surroundings, they were ready to enter 
on their next, — stronger, purer, and with more 
lofty desires. 

When Adamah was one hundred years old, 
the eruption of a great volcano buried in its 
lava torrent three of his family: his first born, 
Evera — -his wife — and himself. 

As THIS IS SHOWN ME, A VIBRATION FROM 
THE INNER VOICE COMES TO ME, BIDDING ME 
STUDY WELL THE PROOF IN THIS INCARNATION 
OF THE POWER OF THOUGHT; TO SEE THAT 
THROUGH THIS POWER — ^THE OUTGROWTH OF 

[21] 



SiGNOR 



the divine mind— all mankind is travel- 
ing toward the one central goal; for 
there is no retrogression, though often 
through wrong thinking, one is delayed 
at way stations on life's journey. 

Evolution and involution go hand in 
HAND. Sooner or later man makes his 
own atonement for past mistakes ; and, in 
the end, possibly of one or more incarna- 
tions, the wrong is rectified. 

Progress leaves its finger-print along 
THE ROAD. The astral passed, the soul 

AWAKENS TO ITS OWN POSSIBILITIES, AND 
BRINGS ALL MANKIND EVENTUALLY, THROUGH 
DIFFERENT CYCLES, TO THE FATHER'S HOUSE. 



[22] 



CHAPTER II 



THE CATACLYSM 



"Hark! the growl of the thunder, — the quaking of earth! 
Woe, woe to the worship, and woe to the mirth! 
The black sky has opened, — there's flame in the air,— 
The red arm of vengeance is lifted and bare! 

Then the shriek of the dying rose wild where the song 
And the low tone of love had been whispered along; 
For the fierce flames went lighly o'er palace and bower, 
L,ike the red tongues of demons, to blast and devour! 

Down, down on the fallen the red ruin rained, 
And the reveller sank with his wine-cup undrained; 
The foot of the dancer, the music's loved thrill 
And the shout and the laughter grew suddenly still. 

The last throb of anguish was fearfully given; 
The last eye glared forth in its madness on Heaven! 
The last groan of horror rose wildly and vain. 
And death brooded over the pride of the slain!" 



— Whittier. 



Hermes . . . . 
johannesa 



Adone . . 
Clion . . 
Afreeda, 
Clione. . 

LORETA. . 



Signor 

. . .Father Gorgista 
Aros, the Egyptian 



Romea 
Nester 
. Lorny 



LoRETA^s Child 



Romea's Mother 
Marmie 



[23] 



THE CATACLYSM 



HE vision that is passing before me is of 



a most beautiful city. Its buildings are 



ornate in the extreme. Its halls of learn- 
ing are decorated by master hands. Its streets 
are traversed by men and women, young and 
old, each, if possible, more beautiful than the 
other: a beauty, not merely of form and feat- 
ure, but of intellect and high spirituality. 

There is a grace of movement, a purity of 
costume, all speaking of the warp and woof of 
an inherent artistic strain, brought to a high 
state of perfection through right living and 
perfect thought. 

In the present age of civilization, man 
speaks of the contemporary achievement in 
art and science as surpassing anything hereto- 
fore known. When one refers to the ''Lost 
Atlantis," the average individual smiles,— that 
knowing smile, which seems to say: "Atlantis 
is a delusion." 

At the present time we know that this is not 
true. Atlantis not only had an existence, but 
covered a large area, east, west, north and 




[24] 



The Cataclysm 

south; for ocular proof has been found in 
Troy, in Peru, in Mexico, and in many other 
portions of the known world, giving indisputa- 
ble evidence of this existence. 

I am told, that this city, which is now shown 
me, was one of the principal cities of Atlantis. 
Here men and women flocked for education. 
It was here in "The Temple of Transparent 
Walls," that disks, or medallions, of curious 
metal, bearing strange hieroglyphics, with the 
signature of King Chronus upon them, were 
issued. 

These and curious vases and other works of 
vertu, likewise bearing his signature, prove 
positively that Atlantis was the birthplace of 
civilization ; that art, invention, all the things 
we boast of in our present existence, were 
known and used by the Atlanteans. 

^ ^ ^ 

A boy of some fifteen summers, wandering 
through the streets like a stranger, uncertain 
which way to turn, was accosted by a white- 
robed priest. 

"Whither goest thou, — and whence comest 
thou?" 

"Father, I come from a long distance; I 
have been weeks coming: part of the way by 
water, the rest upon my two good feet. A 

[25] 



SiGNOR 

Stranger, visiting the hamlet where I was born, 
described this wonderful place to me, telling 
me of its learning until my heart burned to 
come, not only to see the city, but to do — no 
matter what service — if by so doing I could be 
taught to be a priest like thee. I am an orphan, 
without kith or kin; but I am strong and 
healthy. I have not money, but the good 
father at the hamlet said I had brains. He 
bade me give this paper to one of the priests. 
Father Gorgista, saying: 'He knew me once, 
and, for my sake, will show you the way to get 
learning.' My name is Signor." 

"I am Father Gorgista. Come with me, 
Signor, and I will read the good priest's 
epistle. Perchance I may be able to help 
thee." 

Away from the busy street, into a quiet lane. 
Father Gorgista led his young friend. Stop- 
ping before a cottage entwined with roses, 
which stood well back in a sunny garden, he 
said to the boy: 

''This is my home. It is quiet and peaceful : 
like myself, it is humble. I like quiet; I love 
flowers; and good old Marmie, my house- 
keeper, makes me very comfortable. Wel- 
come, Signor! I will show thee to the little 
guest-room which is always in order. When 
thou hast bathed and freed thyself from the 

[26] 



The Cataclysm 

dust of travel, come down to this room on the 
lower floor. By that time I shall have read the 
note thou hast given me." 

An hour later, Signer, while partaking with 
his host of a well served supper, talked of his 
friend, the priest. Father Gorgista expressed 
his pleasure in hearing from this friend of his 
boyhood and told Signor that for the present 
he had better remain with him. 

"Thou wilt wish to look about and become 
acquainted with the city. In a few days I will 
make arrangements for thee to begin thy edu- 
cation. Tomorrow we will devote an hour to 
thy past studies, that I may better judge where 
thou shouldst begin. We are simple folk, 
Marmie and I; we retire early, and rise with 
the sun." 

Lying in his white-curtained room, Signor 
thought of what he wished to make of his life. 
His plans were of such magnitude, that it 
would take more than one incarnation for him 
to attain to their fulfilment. 

The following week, he entered a school 
for boys of his age, and showed such keenness 
of comprehension, such aptitude and applica- 
tion, that at the close of the month. Father 
Gorgista was more than pleased. 

Signor, passing the Temple of Transparent 

[27] 



SiGNOR 



Walls with a classmate one sunny afternoon, 
spoke freely of his hopes and aspirations. 

Romea listened attentively, then said: "I 
would like my mother and sisters to know you. 
Will you not come this afternoon and make 
their acquaintance?" 

Signor hesitated, then replied: ''I am poor 
and an orphan. Excepting for the kindness of 
Father Gorgista, I should not know which 
way to turn, were I in great trouble. Still — I 
would like to know your mother and sisters, 
and, if you really think they would like to 
know me, I will be only too glad to go with 
you." 

Romea's mother was a stately lady of about 
fifty. Her loose, flowing costume added to her 
height, and the soft, pearly gray of its folds 
was becoming. She wore no ornaments except- 
ing an arrow-shaped brooch, curiously 
wrought, which fastened a loose fold to the 
right shoulder. A pin of similar workman- 
ship held the round coil on the back of her 
well-shaped head. 

Signor admired her at first sight. She had 
evidently heard of him through her son. Her 
manner was gracious, and, as Signor stood 
before her, somewhat bashful, yet intently lis- 
tening, two young ladies entered the room. 
Under the arm of one — a blonde — was a roll 

[28] 



The Cataclysm 



of music ; in the hands of her sister, who was of 
somewhat darker coloring, was a netted bag, 
containing books. 

^'Oh! Lorny, you and Nester are late. This 
is my friend, Signor, of whom you have heard 
me speak." 

Signor bowed somewhat awkwardly, yet he 
had such a kindly smile that the two girls, in 
the glances they exchanged, seemed to say: "I 
know we shall like him." 

When Signor rose to go, Romea's mother 
said '^You must come again." 

On Signor's return to the rose-covered cot- 
tage, he told Father Gorgista of the visit, of 
which the priest heartily approved, saying: 'T 
have known these three young people since 
they were children, and have always found 
them studious and thoughtful for the comfort 
of others. As tomorrow is a holiday, Signor, 
I wish thee to go with me to see an old friend 
of mine, a wonderful man, a mystic, a natur- 
alist, and a scientific astrologer." 

Signor's dark blue eyes beamed with delight 
as he exclaimed: "Not the Egyptian!" 

''Yes, the Egyptian; he has asked more than 
once to see thee: he says that the great god 
Thaut has given him a vision relating to thee. 
But I will leave him to tell thee what he saw 
in the vision. One thing he did say: That I 



SiGNOR 

was not to make a priest of thee; that the sun 
has shed its glory upon thee before this, and, 
that the mystic light which surrounds thee 
points to a wonderful earthly existence in this 
incarnation. I have hesitated about taking 
thee to see him, thinking he might unsettle 
thee and cause thee to lose interest in thy 
present studies; but, when I told him this, he 
asked me whether any man hath the right to be 
arbiter of the fate of another; if my wisdom 
was greater than that of Thaut. In fact, he 
said so much, that I at last consented; we will 
start an hour after sunrise. 

"Let me see, — thou hast been here now about 
six months; thou hast well occupied thy time, 
— hast in every way demonstrated my wisdom 
in helping to put thy feet on the ladder of 
learning. I am an old man, Signor, one who 
has had an eventful life. I trust to live here 
to see the fulfillment of the prophecy of Thaut. 
Remember, we start an hour after sunrise. 
Goodnight." 

Within me, I feel strong vibrations ; crossing 
my vision, I see strange figures floating in 
primrose yellow. These gradually fade, and, 
as they disappear, an exquisite amethystine 
shade takes their place. In the center of this, 

[30] 



The Cataclysm 



I see the emblem of peace — a white dove with 
outspread wings. 

While I am gazing intently at this, a light 
flashes up, — steady, flame-colored; and, in 
place of amethystine tint and the dove, I see 
intertwined, like three large ropes twisted 
together: that tender blue which speaks of 
devotion; that charming shade of green which 
indicates helpfulness; and the delicate rose 
color which expresses love. 

As I watch this form, as it were, into a 
frame, I see the face of the boy as it appears 
after he has listened to the Egyptian. Expect- 
ancy, enthusiasm, and an earnest purpose are 
expressed in the blue eyes. The face, which 
is usually pale, is slightly flushed; the mouth 
is tender, forgiving, and speaks of gentleness, 
though firm withal. 

From the crown of the head to the tip of the 
chin, high resolve is writ large. One can see 
in the broad forehead, that intellect has set its 
seal ; but in the poise and contour of the head, 
covered with chestnut-brown hair, and in the 
face as a whole, one reads high spiritual 
aspiration. 

The face lingers, — lingers for a short time, 
then gradually fades away, leaving a radiance 
as of sunshine upon water. 

[31] 



SiGNOR 

The picture as a whole has been so vivid, the 
details so marked, that it would seem to pro- 
phesy that which the future holds in store for 
him. 

Once again, I am shown, as in vision, Signor 
and Father Gorgista, entering the city through 
the golden Gates, and I feel, as I see them, 
that they are soon to be parted. They typify 
the new life beginning, and a life well spent, 
entering into a new kingdom. 

¥^ ^ ^ 

A month later. Father Gorgista fell asleep. 
Signor, at the earnest solicitation of the 
Egyptian, took up his home on the outskirts of 
the city, in a house rather gloomy of aspect, yet 
filled with wonderful objects of vertu; and 
from this time on, his course of study was 
changed. 

Everything was done to unfold his intui- 
tional nature, to quicken in him a knowledge 
of the astral planes of existence; to teach him 
the relation of color to sound ; of the difiference 
between astral and spiritual color. 

Nature was one of his all-absorbing studies. 
The germinating process of the seed in the 
soil; the tiny plant, which sends its tender 
shoots heavenward; the intelligence expressed . 
in the dainty flower, making it a thing of 

[32] 



The Cataclysm 

beauty; the propagation of its species; every 
little cell was made of as much importance as 
is the study of man : for, according to the belief 
of his teacher, it was only through a clear 
understanding of the physical formation of 
all things pertaining to nature, that one could 
reach out and grasp fully man physical and 
man spiritual. 

Hours were spent over a single flower; days 
over the physical formation and habits of an 
insect. Nothing was too small, too insignifi- 
cant, his teacher often said, for in each and in 
all is the promise of Ra. 

Signor's intuitional sight became so clear, 
that, in the darkest night, he could discern by 
color the identity of any object near him, pro- 
vided it had life. He could see the aura of 
the individual with whom he might be con- 
versing; diagnose through his aura; see the 
life he was leading, and, like a good mathema- 
tician, prove whether the colors were astral, 
or whether their origin was the soul. 

Often the field of color was broken by 
geometrical lines; again sounds, in the shape 
of words, or letters, would leave strange mark- 
ings on colors brought out by the vibration of 
thought, — selfiish, devotional, affectionate, etc. 

At the end of five years, Signor's vibrations 
were so sensitive, that there were times when it 

[33] 



SiGNOR 

was extremely painful for him to meet with 
the world at large. It was then that Aros, the 
Egyptian, taught him how to protect himself, 
and in time he gained the mastery through liv- 
ing in accordance with Immutable Law. 

When Signor was twenty-five years of age, 
he had become, in the truest sense, a mystic. 
He was also a profound naturalist, yet he 
would say: 'Were I to live to be a thousand 
years old, nature would still present me with 
some new problem to solve." 

Aros was taciturn. He said but little, but 
thought deeply. One evening he said to 
Signor: 

"It is high time that you were making a com- 
prehensive study of astrology. For two hours 
tonight, — the one before and the one after mid- 
night, — watch through my large telescope, 
and tomorrow tell me all that you can in refer- 
ence to the configurations of the heavens. I 
wish you to learn two things thoroughly: first, 
the position and relation of certain groups to 
each other; secondly, by observation, to 
acquire the correct deductions to be drawn 
from the relations of the different houses at 
certain periods. I shall not endeavor at first 
to teach you the phraseology used by learned 
astrologers, since I think it better for you to 
acquire it through your inner consciousness. 

[34] 



The Cataclysm 



It is a wonderful science; few there are who 
understand its true relationship to sentient 
life." 

Signor was as faithful in this study as he had 
been in that of nature. 

One day, as he was strolling down to the 
Temple of Transparent Walls, he met Romea 
and his two sisters, who chided him for his 
long absence, it having been two years since 
he had seen them. 

Walking beside Nester, he said: ''How is 
your sister advancing in her music?" 

"We think that she has a wonderful voice. 
By the way — she is to sing this afternoon at a 
concert; if you have no previous engagement, 
why not join us?" 

Signor was much pleased with her cordial 
invitation and, after hearing Lorny sing, he 
congratulated himself upon meeting them. 

Romea urged him to return home with 
them, saying : "You will miss our dear mother 
as we do, but we have learned that there is no 
such thing as death, — only an entering into a 
restful existence, with the opportunity always 
given one to return. Dear Father Gorgista 
taught us this belief, and, if one but stop and 
think how short is the time allotted to an 
earthly existence, one can see the wisdom of 

[35] 



SiGNOR 



having our choice as to location and surround- 
ings; for only through experience can one 
grow into the Perfect." 

"But, Romea, Signor must have known 
Father Gorgista's belief in this and many- 
things. I hear that you have made a great 
study of nature, and, at the present time, are 
learning to read the heavens. It must be a fas- 
cinating study!" 

"I have found it so, — it is not only fascinat- 
ing, Nester, but wonderfully instructive." 

When Signor bade them goodnight, he 
promised to see them soon. 

The following year, he was invited to fill the 
chair of Natural Science at the Temple of 
Transparent Walls. This brought him in con- 
tact with young and old, — men of great erudi- 
tion, — students who were seeking knowledge, 
— and his perfect understanding of his subject, 
combined with his clear, incisive manner of 
teaching, won for him high encomiums. 

This was for him a labor of love, and, so 
well did he present all aspects of nature and 
their relation to things spiritual, as well as 
physical, that he was asked, before the year 
was out, to give one hour, three times each 
week, to philosophy. 

Crowds flocked to hear him. His manner 
was so simple, his attitude of thought so lofty, 

[36] 



The Cataclysm 



and his ability to make others see from his 
point of view, so great, that it won for him, 
through his clear understanding, the name of 
Hermes. Few spoke of him in these days as 
Signor, for the mantle of Thaut seemed to 
have fallen upon him. 

Tall and of an imposing presence, he fairly 
radiated the color blue; while many said of 
him when he became earnest, — more earnest 
than usual: ^'His speech is like Mercury!" 

Strangers pointed him out on the street; the 
citizens of Atlantis spoke of him as of a god; 
invitations fairly poured in upon him: but 
nothing disturbed his simplicity or serenity. 

Steadily he pursued his study of astrology. 
Dipping deeper into philosophy, he, at times, 
through his clear perception of his oneness 
with higher things, visited the astral planes, 
learning many a lesson, through observation 
of their inhabitants. 

He traced at times the efifects of wrong and 
of pure living upon the faces and forms of 
those who were resting prior to progressing, 
or to taking another physical incarnation; and, 
in the talks he held with Romea and his sis- 
ters, he explained to them, that in the use of 
the word planes he was not describing a definite 
location, but that astral fluid, which permeates 
at times so intimately the physical world, that 

[37] 



SiGNOR 



it is most difficult to say where the line of 
demarcation takes place. 

He described to them also life beyond the 
astral, and, after one of these flights, he proph- 
esied, that in the zenith of her glory Atlantis 
would disappear, leaving but few traces of 
ever having existed. 

''But how can that be, Signor? Surely, 
Atlantis was never more prosperous than 
now!" 

"Three nights I have seen in the heavens 
that which makes me tremble for Atlantis. 
Late last night, I heard a strange rumbling 
sound, and almost immediately the sky became 
inky black. Aros is of the same mind as 
myself, and, so strong is his conviction, he has 
gone to different ones in power to tell them of 
that which he has seen. I have come here 
tonight to urge you, Romea, to take your sis- 
ters and flee into Egypt. Aros and myself are 
contemplating such a step, and, if you care to 
avail yourself of his guidance, he will see that 
you are safely conducted to his sister's house, 
where you can stay until you can make more 
satisfactory arrangements. Aros bade me say 
that on the third night he is to leave Atlantis. 
He deems me foolhardy to remain that I may 
finish my last lecture, which is to be given two 
days later. You can see by his attitude that he 

[38] 



The Cataclysm 



considers the peril very great and very near." 

^'But why, Signer, do you not heed his warn- 
ing? Why delay? Surely you can explain 
why you wish to leave before the closing lec- 
ture is given." 

"Yes, I could explain, but I feel an urge 
upon me to keep to the full my agreement. 
What say you, Nester? and you, Lorny? Will 
you put yourself under Aros' protection?" 

"Do you think, Signor, that we should leave 
Atlantis so suddenly? What do you think, 
Lorny?" 

Three nights after this conversation, Signor 
bade the brother and sisters goodbye, promis- 
ing to leave Atlantis himself, after he had 
delivered his lecture, and to join them and 
Aros in Egypt. 

"Remember," said Aros, "I do not approve 
of your remaining; still, through great peril 
and delay, you will at last keep your word. 
But, do not fail to start at once, the very night 
your lecture is given ; for, in a day and a night 
from that time, Atlantis will be no more!" 

The city was in a state of confusion. Many 
were leaving it, for Aros' opinion bore great 
weight. Yet, in certain parts of the city, danc- 
ing and feasting seemed to be the chief occupa- 
tion and thought of both men and women. In 
some quarters, houses were being rifled, hav- 



SiGNOR 

ing been left open to the passerby; and crime, 
fear and carousing walked side by side. 

Signor had made every preparation for his 
flight. As he entered the great hall in the 
Temple of Transparent Walls, he was amazed 
to see the large concourse of people awaiting 
him. He noted in the faces of many, a furtive, 
nervous expression, as though fear gripped 
them, in spite of determination to cast it forth. 

As Signor rose to his feet, he saw, coming in 
through every entrance to the hall, what at first 
glance he took for a great host; then, as his 
inner sight quickened, he saw that these were 
not living men and women, but astral entities, 
each, in the color that surrounded it, express- 
ing its status on the astral planes. 

He looked and looked, and wondered that 
his audience did not see them. 

At last he began to speak: 

"Friends, I am here tonight to keep my 
appointment with you, and, after I have ex- 
plained what I have seen since I came into the 
hall, if you still desire the lecture to which you 
are entitled, I will be pleased to give it. You 
all know the warning which Aros has given to 
the citizens of Atlantis. Doubtless you all 
know that he, with a party of friends, has 
already acted upon that advice and has left the 

[40] 



The Cataclysm 

city. Had I felt myself free to go, I would 
have gone with them. 

"As I arose to my feet to address you, I saw 
what I took for men and women, — a great 
host, — enter this hall. I know, by the colors 
they bring, that they are astral entities; that it 
would have been impossible, were we not on 
the eve of some great cataclysm, for them to 
appear in this manner. It is but right that I 
should tell you, that last night I read in the 
heavens, — for the third time, — the day and the 
hour when great rumblings will be heard and 
great volcanic upheavals will make themselves 
felt, and Atlantis, with all its art treasures, its 
beautiful buildings, its fountains, its lordly 
residences, will be swallowed up : in a day and 
a night from the first warning rumble, the 
whole continent of Atlantis will be as if it 
were not. 

"The stars predict that the first rumble will 
be heard just before the day that is coming. If 
you desire me to deliver my lecture, I will do 
so; but, if you are wise, each one of you will 
return to his or her home, warn his friends, 
gather such of his belongings as he may be able 
to take with him, and pass through the golden 
gates of the city before midnight!" 

Terror spoke from every eye, fear ashened 
every cheek, and, for a brief moment, every 

[41] 



SiGNOR 

one present seemed paralyzed; then, as if act- 
ing from one impulse, they all rushed from the 
hall, — the strong crowding the weak. Hyster- 
ical screams and the clamor of voices freighted 
with fear were the only sounds, for not one 
stopped to thank Signor for his timely warn- 
ing. 

As he stood there, — the only one left in this 
brilliantly lighted hall, — he looked about him 
to see if the astral shades had also disappeared. 
Finding that they had indeed gone, he gave a 
deep sigh, and, stepping into a small room 
near, gathered up his belongings and walked 
out through the golden gates for the last time. 

Even as he did so, he heard a faint rumble, 
— felt beneath his feet a trembling quiver, — 
and he knew that his warning had not been 
premature. 

He hesitated at first, uncertain which way to 
turn, but at last decided to follow Aros' advice 
and not trust the water, as he had been inclined 
to do. 

Long before Atlantis had been left — left far 
behind, — he realized, that few of the many 
inhabitants would be saved. 

Weeks and months passed before he reached 
his destination. Twice he came near being 
shipwrecked; once he was attacked by robbers 

[42] 



The Cataclysm 



and came near losing his life. At last, when 
least expected, he arrived at the home of Aros' 
sister. 

^ ^ ^ 

Thus far, by sight, by sound, and by that 
inner vibration, which makes all things clear, 
I have heard, seen, and known all that I have 
written, — even more has come to me, relating 
to Atlantis, her seven cities, her golden gates 
and temples of transparent walls. 

Before the great disruption, before the 
tremendous earthquakes and volcanic upheav- 
als, Atlantis, with her men and women, bejew- 
eled and bedecked, their slaves, and their 
homes — palaces in themselves — had thrown off 
much of her ancient purity, the seeking after 
knowledge; and her people had become — 
many of them — thoroughly lacking in moral 
tone and led a life of pleasure and licentious- 
ness. 

More than once, the learned Egyptian, Aros, 
had seen in prophetic vision the doom of 
Atlantis. More than once, he had proclaimed 
the death of most of her inhabitants. They 
had but laughed and went on their way, think- 
ing of naught but self-indulgence. 

When the hour struck, when the first quak- 
ing of the earth and the rumbling sound 
aroused them to a faint realization of their 

[43] 



SiGNOR 

fate, those, whose lives had been well-spent, 
who had sought knowledge from nature, who 
had striven to bring into greater activity the 
highest realization of all truth, had heeded 
the words of wisdom and had sought refuge in 
different countries. 

There were those who, knowing to what a 
high state of cultivation Atlantis had attained 
in knowledge of chemistry, of the use of elec- 
tricity, of letters and arts, waited, — hoping 
against hope. But the night that Signor gave 
out his warning, these also fled, — fled while 
the earth began to rock beneath their feet, to 
heave up and down like a ship upon the ocean ; 
and most of these were successful in reaching 
safety. 

I am shown the frantic inhabitants rushing 
through the city, — young and old, agonized 
and distraught, knowing not which way to 
turn. I see the earth with its great rents, in 
which many lose their lives ; the fitful bursts of 
fire and smoke ; and then — all is darkness. 

When the vision appears to me again, the 
great continent has disappeared. Only here 
and there are traces that it once had an exist- 
ence. 

^ ¥^ ^ 

A month after Signor's arrival in Egypt, 
Romea's sister, Nester, became his wife. 
[44] 



The Cataclysm 

Signer took up the work, which, through all 
these years, he had been fitting himself to do, 
and, in teaching, writing, and constant study, 
he led a life, not only of usefulness, but one 
which gave to mankind a clear insight into 
things physical and life spiritual. 

He was not satisfied with what was taught 
at that period; something within him urged 
him, not only to study the heavens through a 
telescope, but, through his occult knowledge 
of the finer forces, to seek for himself a clear 
understanding, wherever it was possible, by 
leaving temporarily the physical body, and 
journeying to other planets. 

At such times, Nester, like a mother-bird, 
watching her young, saw to it that no one 
entered his retiring-room. 

There, Signor would lie in a robe of spot- 
less white and, with deep concentration, grad- 
ually drift from his present surroundings. 
United to his physical body only by the fine 
life-cord of union, the real Signor, — the 
diviner part, — would visit far beyond the 
astral planes of existence. 

At times he would touch other physical 
worlds; again would enter into the highly 
attuned ethereal atmosphere which made it 
possible for him to hold communion with spir- 

[45] 



SiGNOR 

itual entities, who were near the very central 
source of Being. 

He had explained to his wife, Nester, how 
essential it was for him not to be disturbed at 
such times ; explained to her how a slight shock 
might sever the life-cord, making it impossible 
for him to unite again with his physical body. 
She, faithful to the trust imposed upon her, 
watched his room with lynx eyes, and, in her 
heart, a prayer for his safety. 

For five years, life brought them happiness 
such as few mortals enjoy. One child — a boy 
— was the result of their union. To him they 
gave the name of Aros. The Egyptian had 
passed on six months before their boy was 
born. 

In the sixth year of their wedded life, while 
Signor was in his retiring-room and Nester 
was watching as usual, a slave came running 
to her mistress, exclaiming in an excited man- 
ner: ''Aros is drowned!" 

The mother love for one fatal moment made 
Nester forget everything but her boy. She 
gave a piercing scream of terror; and, during 
her absence, or at the time of her fright, Signor 
must have met that from which he had been 
so long guarded. 

The boy had only fallen into the fountain, 
but the father was no longer able to unite with 
the physical plane. 

[46] 



CHAPTER III 

THE RECKONING 

"Where we may see but the darkness of the mine, 
God's wisdom through love sees the diamond shine. 
Where we might raise our voice in condemnation, 
God measures both the guilt and provocation. 

— Anon. 



Hermes 

johannesa 

Adone 

Clion 

Afreeda 

Clione 

LORETA AND HeR ChILD 



Norqua 

The Sheik 

Denester 

Ura 

Kerza 

Wasie 

The Two Witnesses 



[47] 



THE RECKONING 



FOR days, fragments of the present incar- 
nation have endeavored to impress me 
with their importance. Out of deep sleep 
at night I have been awakened with sounds, 
unexplainable upon any other hypothesis than 
that my call upon the Universal Memory has 
quickened into activity glimpses of the past. 

In every thought, every act, and every situa- 
tion, which makes up a certain period in the 
Eternal Cycle, he who but knows the modus 
operandi can at will unlock that which has 
been hidden, and, through vision, through 
sound, and through that higher vibration of 
the Inner Voice, learn of scenes and experi- 
ences which have transpired. No matter how 
far back the cycle, how infinitesimal the expe- 
rience, how great, or how small the thought, — 
all that makes up the life of man and his 
environment is to be found in the Universal 
Keeper, or chamber of the Subconscious 
Memory. 

The first fragment was expressed in three 
words: "It is night." 
[48] 



The Reckoning 



As these words were heard by me when the 
sun was at its zenith, I knew at once that they 
were words that I should heed. 

The second fragment came as a vision of a 
superb stallion of pure Arabian breed, deep 
bay in color. On the back of this magnificent 
creature bestrode a young man — scarce twenty 
— stalwart, head erect, eyes black as night, 
keenly searching the trackless desert over 
which he was swiftly riding. 

With this vision came the vibration of the 
Inner Voice, saying: ''Heed well the rider 
and the horse; both were born on the desert 
and know well the ways of the desert." 
* * * 

More than once before he was twelve, Nor- 
qua had traveled long distances in great cara- 
vans; had seen many strange places; had 
learned to reverence the aged ; to be true to his 
people and their faith. Then, he met with a 
stranger who urged him to go to Damascus, 
and there be taught things that he might not 
learn, if he remained on the desert. 

After days of consultation and earnest 
entreaty, the stranger persuaded the shiek to 
give his consent, on these terms: Norqua could 
go with the stranger, provided he took the oath 
of fealty to his people ; and, when Venus and 
Jupiter were in conjunction in his eighteenth 

[49] 



SiGNOR 

year, he should find the tent which sheltered 
the shiek and his people, renew his oath of 
fealty, and, after being united according to 
custom to the patriarch's youngest daughter, 
Kerza, he should start forth with his young 
bride to the place to which the shiek would 
direct him. 

After all due ceremonies had been observed, 
Norqua with Denester, the Jew, left the 
patriarch, after receiving his blessing, — left 
those whom he had known from childhood to 
seek experience in the home of the stranger. 
* * * 

It is night. The purplish dusk of the sky is 
thickly studded with brilliant stars. So many 
are they, so radiant, that one is reminded of a 
festal season of rejoicing. 

Over a tent of mammoth proportions, Venus 
— resplendent in all her beauty — hangs like a 
jeweled pendant, while Jupiter — magnificent 
and overpowering — gives one the impression 
of a bold lover, ardent and joyous, scintillating 
as though to attract Venus to his arms ; a light 
so inspiring that the young rider hastening 
swiftly across the desert after days of travel, 
exclaimed: 

"This is my way; I shall be there in time!" 

The patriarch, sitting in the opening of the 

[50] 



The Reckoning 



tent, lost in profound reverie, did not at first 
hear the muffled thud of the Arabian steed's 
dainty feet; for his attention was attracted to 
Venus and Jupiter. 

Deep in his heart he felt a weight of sorrow : 
not for one moment did he doubt but that 
Norqua would keep his pledge. Already his 
youngest daughter had been apprised of the 
fact — the fact that long before sunrise Norqua 
would come for her. The shiek had warned 
her to be prepared for a long journey. 

Kerza had filled to the brim the great beaker 
of beaten gold studded with precious stones, 
from which the three would quaff: first, her 
father as patriarch of the tribe; then, Norqua; 
lastly, herself, — the two young people pledg- 
ing eternal love and faithfulness. 

Kerza was young and beautiful, her step 
reminded one of the gazelle, her eyes of a 
young fawn; her hair, long and luxuriant, 
flowed loosely about her, its tint burnished 
copper. Her cheeks wore the hues of health. 
She had a native dignity, which became her 
well. 

It was Kerza who first heard the thud of the 
hoofs of the war stallion, and a soft blush 
mantled her very hair. By this time the shiek 
had also become aware of Norqua's approach. 

Kerza felt to her finger tips the quickening 

[51] 



SiGNOR 

of love within her, — the excitement of that 
which was to take place, of the long journey in 
prospective. 

The shiek, while thoroughly conscious of the 
nearness of his son-in-law to be, showed not by 
a glance, or a movement, the feelings which 
were stirring his innermost being; for was he 
not about to give his one ewe-lamb into the 
hands of a shepherd who, for six years past, 
had made his home with strangers, learning 
their ways? 

The stallion stopped in front of the 
patriarch, who observed the caress that 
Norqua gave his steed as he dismounted. 
Then, with a few low words to his horse, he 
turned and made his salutations to the old man 
sitting, hooded and muffled in his rough, fur 
kalmuch, observing closely every gesture, — 
every word of the young man who was suing 
for his bride. 

Kerza, watching through a slit in the side 
of the tent, saw her father place his hand upon 
Norqua's head, — saw the young man rise to 
his feet, then sit down near him who had been 
to him a father from the time he was a year 
old. She then passed out through a side en- 
trance of the tent, and, with a coaxing note in 
her voice, led the great bay to the rear, where 
quarters had been prepared for him, — saw to 

[52] 



The Reckoning 



it that his coat was made to shine like satin; 
that he had food and water. Then, with burn- 
ing cheeks, she pressed a kiss upon the neck 
of the horse, where Norqua's hand had 
caressed it. 

With quick steps Kerza turned towards the 
front of the tent, holding on her arm a piece 
of fine napery and in her hand a great basin 
filled with translucent water, on whose circles 
rested sprays of sweet-scented flowers. As she 
stood before her father and the man who was 
soon to be her husband, she said in a sweet, 
gentle voice : 

^Welcome, Norqua! Lave thy face and 
hands, and, when the dust of travel is removed, 
I will bring thee food and wine." 

The eyes of Norqua took in every graceful 
movement, her modest demeanor; and the love 
with which he had started on this journey 
grew apace with the thought, that, within the 
hour, he and this maiden would be riding forth 
together upon the journey of life. 

After Norqua had partaken of food and 
wine, the shiek said: 

"Time crawls not; the hour draws near for 
your departure. Bring, my daughter, thy two 
cousins, as witnesses to the bond ; but with thy 
own hand bring the jeweled beaker. Let it be 
full to the brim, yet bear it so steadily that not 

[53] 



SiGNOR 

a drop shall be spilled on the way; for it is said 
that, if the beaker overfloweth before its time, 
woe will come to the bridegroom; that, if the 
hand which bears the beaker be not firm and 
steady, the bride shall shed a thousand tears 
for every drop spilled!" 

As Kerza stood once more before them, both 
the shiek and Norqua saw that hardly a rose 
petal could be added to the wine that filled it 
to the brim, without causing it to overflow, yet 
not one drop had been spilled by the way. 

As the shiek quafifed from the beaker, he 
was like one who, looking within, sees prophet- 
ically the future of the two. As Kerza took it 
from him, he said: 

''Thou shalt give to thy people a son. Thou 
shalt be faithful to thy husband. Thou shalt 
find peace and happiness by his side. It is so 
willed!" 

Norqua, after quaffing from the beaker, said 
in a low, impressive tone: "As I do by thee, 
Kerza, may all the gods do by me ; for I pledge 
to thee not only love and faithfulness, but the 
strength of a strong arm to protect thee!" 

"Now, my daughter, as thou quafifest lightly 
the wine, hold the thought that I have often 
told thee to hold, and it shall be well with 
thee!" 

[54] 



The Reckoning 



The moon was outshone by the splendor of 
the light of Venus and Jupiter as Norqua and 
his bride, — both mounted on the great stallion, 
— rode out onto the desert. 

They had many miles to traverse within the 
next twenty-four hours, yet time passed only 
too swiftly; still, when they arrived at their 
destination, both were glad that the journey 
had come to an end ; that they were greeted by 
their many friends: three of Kerza's married 
sisters and her favorite cousin, — a maid of six- 
teen — Wasie. 

For a month Norqua and Kerza remained 
with their friends, then they joined a large 
caravan, consisting of many war-like men and 
their families, as well as of traders. 

It reminded Norqua of the time when he 
became acquainted with Denester, the Jew; 
and his fund of good spirits, the tales he could 
tell of his life in Damascus whiled away many 
an hour of the long road before them. 

Kerza formed many new friendships, 
learned much of life previously unknown to 
her, and, in the hours when she was alone with 
her husband, — with the skies glittering with 
star-dust overhead, — the young couple spoke 
freely of their impressions as to their present 
life and of the new home toward which they 
were journeying. 

[55] 



SiGNOR 



It was a great distance to this new home, 
and, as the journey neared its end — some six 
months after their departure from the old 
shiek, — they questioned more and more as to 
what the future would hold in store for them; 
for the promise of a new life had been added 
to them. Kerza, — woman-like, — even before 
the advent, was laying out plans for the future 
career of her son; not for one moment did she 
doubt the sex of her child. Norqua, likewise, 
was not backward in laying plans. 

As they entered, beyond the desert, the strag- 
gling town, on the outskirts of which they were 
to make their permanent home, Norqua ex- 
claimed: 

"Look, Kerza! Look! That thing of beauty 
which you see to the right is the great sea, — a 
vast, almost endless waste of water. Men draw 
fish from its depths which they sell. More 
than once I have eaten of them and found them 
pleasant to the taste." 

* * * 

The day on which the little stranger was 
welcomed by his young parents was one when 
the sea shimmered like gold, for the sun's rays 
were reflected in the water, and land and sea 
seemed to rejoice with the happy parents. 

* * * 



[56] 



The Reckoning 

Thus far, — largely in vision and in sound, — 
I have seen and heard what has been written 
here. 

Now, after a period of twelve months, the 
peacefulness of the scene is broken into. 
Norqua, at the head of many armed men, is to 
leave wife and child, that he might do honor 
to his tribe. 

It was a sad, yet courageous parting. Kerza 
would not let her lord see tears in her eyes, 
though she had shed many when alone with 
her child. Instead, as her warrior husband 
looked backward to catch a last glimpse of 
wife and child, she returned his glance with a 
loving smile. 

Kerza had wonderful inner sight. As she 
watched the great bay stallion and her lord, 
she saw that which paled her cheek and 
brought unbidden tears to her eyes. For a 
moment the sun was obscured by a black cloud 
which seemed to settle over Norqua's head. 
Out of this darted spikes of fire and the great 
bay stumbled. 

These two omens said as plainly as words to 
her: '^Adversity awaits your lord. Time, a 
great length of time, must elapse before he re- 
turns to you. The babe at your breast will be 
a boy, filled with martial ardor when his 
father's name is mentioned. Still, he will re- 

[57] 



SiGNOR 

turn, though your heart will whisper more 
than once: 'He is dead.' " 

Stately looked Norqua on his great bay, yet 
he was not free from superstition when, for 
the first time in his recollection, his steed 
stumbled. The cloud, the obscuring of the 
sun, and all the other portents for a short mo- 
ment made his heart quake with fear, — not for 
himself, but for Kerza and his boy. 

* * * 

At the end of two years, Norqua was a pris- 
oner, — a prisoner in a dungeon, deep beneath 
a great feudal castle; manacled, — a prey to 
every discomfort, — eating his heart out: while 
Kerza taught her son to be brave like his 
father, for after the third year she had seen 
him in vision, a wreck of his former self; yet 
to know that he was still living gave her hope 
and courage, for she had great faith in her 
visions and she felt that here was not the ques- 
tion of doubt but that, sooner or later, her 
boy's father would return to them. 

Ura — Kerza's son — was nine years old 
when, all unheralded, Norqua looked in at the 
door of his former home and saw wife and son 
on their knees, with foreheads bent, touching 
the ground of the little garden; and he felt 
instinctively that they were praying for him. 

[58] 



The Reckoning 



The small room, that intervened between 
the door where he stood and the garden in 
which Kerza and son were kneeling, to him 
seemed holy ground. It was flooded with a 
blue color, while around the head and face of 
his wife, no longer tinted with the hue of 
health, was a soft rose diffusion, bringing out 
into clear relief many a line which spoke 
louder than words of the pain and suffering 
which she had undergone. 

It was the boy who first discovered the 
stranger in the doorway. 

''Mother! Mother! Is it he, — is it my 
father?'' 

Kerza, startled, aroused from her deep 
meditation, sprang to her feet, as she ex- 
claimed : 

''Norqua! Norqua! My husband!" and 
then, as with rapid steps Norqua approached 
her, she reeled as though about to fall. 

He caught her in his arms. Nothing was 
heard in the little room but the beating of two 
loving hearts. 

''See, Norqua! See, this is thy son, grown 
tall in thy absence! A goodly youth, one to 
make any father's heart proud! Come for- 
ward, lad, thou hast never seen thy father to 
know him before, but, please the Great One 
on High, thou shalt see him henceforth at 

[59] 



SiGNOR 

morn, at noon, at night, and oft through the 
day, when he shall praise thee for all thou 
hast learned, knowing that he can teach thee 
much more than hath thy mother known how 
to teach." 

Ura, who was tall for his age, tossed back 
the curls from his forehead, as, with a straight, 
frank glance, he looked his father in the eye 
and said: 

"No one could teach me better than thee, my 
mother; yet I know that I have much to learn, 
and that we will all be the happier for being 
together. Thou wilt not sigh and weep in the 
long night, thinking so many -sad thoughts. 
Why ! only the other day good Hal said to me : 
When thy father cometh back, my lad, he will 
teach thee what a woman never can.' " Then, 
as a thought crossed his mind, Ura continued: 
"Perhaps I may grow to be as brave a man as 
thou, my father!" 

Norqua stooped and, gathering mother and 
son in his long arms, exclaimed: 

"He who reverences his mother is already 
brave, for he hath the key to true courage, — 
unselfish love." 

It was soon noised abroad that Norqua had 
returned. Old friends flocked about him, and, 
as he laughingly said to Kerza: "It does a 

[60] 



The Reckoning 

man good to be absent for a long time, for by 
his absence he tests his friends." 

* * * 

Three years passed by : as a whole, unevent- 
ful years; then, without a note of warning, a 
wild tribe broke upon the scant numbers of 
Norqua's flock, and soon all was panic and 
confusion. 

In the midst of the foray, Norqua's home 
was broken into. By the morning's early light, 
he found his son kneeling beside the dead body 
of his mother. 

Three days later, Norqua and his son were 
speeding back to the patriarch of the tribe. He 
spared not his good steed, the strength of his 
son, nor his own fast waning strength; for he 
had been severely wounded and by good rights 
should not have started on this long journey. 

One thought, and one only, seemed to pos- 
sess him: to take his son back to the protection 
of the old shiek, and, then, with a new follow- 
ing, seek the ravisher and slayer of his wife. 
The reckoning he promised that this man 
should receive, — a man whom he had once 
called friend, — was too fearful, too horrible 
to be written here. 

Spent with the loss of blood, with the long 
travel, the heat of the desert, the cruel thirst — 

[61] 



SiGNOR 



aggravated by the intense fever to which his 
wound gave rise, — he pushed forward until, 
more dead than alive, he stopped, late one 
afternoon, before the mammoth tent, where, 
sitting in the doorway, was the old shiek. 

Of the two men — the young man, travel- 
worn, spent with pain, with anguish of spirit, 
with lust for revenge, and the old man in fur, 
thinking over past events and of the hope that 
he might live to see his daughter once more 
before he died, — one could scarcely tell which 
would cross the border land first. 

''Thou, my son! Thou and thy son! But I 
see not my daughter, — where is she?" 

Norqua was past replying. With a lurch, 
he fell from the back of his good steed, lying 
without a movement where he had fallen. 

It was Kerza's son, — the shadow of his for- 
mer self, — who said: ''My father hath has- 
tened at once to bring thee the sad news of the 
death of her whom we all loved." 

''Dead! Dead is she? Then the sound I 
heard and the sight I saw in the tract of moon- 
light did not speak falsely. If dead, it was no 
peaceful falling to sleep, no chance to send a 
word to her old father, but some fearful wrong 
done to her, which shall be avenged from 
generation to generation. See, — thy father 
stirs!" 

[62] 



The Reckoning 



It was a month before Norqua, leaving his 
son in the care of the aged patriarch, set forth 
on his errand of vengeance. 

Weeks, months, years passed by ere he gave 
an accounting; and in the meantime Ura grew 
to man's estate, — the pride of the old sheik and 
his tribe. 

At last, at eventide, when all hope had 
seemed to die out, an old man, pallid, hair 
white as though touched by frost, drove up 
before the old shiek's door just as the sun was 
setting. 

Ura was on a large bay, similar to the one 
his father rode in the long ago. The old sheik 
no longer sat in the doorway, but reclined, 
half-blind, upon a mound of soft skins. Some 
inner voice said to him: ^'This stranger is 
Norqua — Norqua come to give an accounting 
of that which thou hast waited so long to 
hear!" 

''Alight, Norqua! I have waited long! 
Alight, — and when thou hast stayed the inner 
man, tell me what was his fate, — that ingrate! 
the ravisher of helpless women! Didst thou 
strike him one heavy blow and finish it with 
still another? Or didst thou tear him limb 
from limb as I would that thou shouldst? Had 
I been the one to mete him out his death, it 
would have been slow torture! Both hands 

[63] 



SiGNOR 

would I have cut off, his eyes burned out one 
by one, and, if he did but plead for mercy, I 
would but have given him more pain, more 
agony to endure! He would have cried for 
mercy more than once!" 

"Thou canst be content: he was hours in 
dying, — hours when every moment was a liv- 
ing agony, until he begged and plead that I 
would but put him out of misery. He had a 
fair daughter; I saw to it that in his very pres- 
ence the commonest soldier did defile her. 
This touched him more than all, until I made 
him, with his own right hand, do the kindest 
thing that could be done for her, — put her out 
of her shame and misery with one swift blow. 
But that is enough ! My brain must have been 
crazed. Sleeping or waking, I see her pale, 
young face, her pleading eyes, and each day — 
yea — each hour of the day, I too, long for 
death! 

"So few years ago I rode away from this 
very spot with my fair bride, Kerza. How 
high ran my hopes! And even when in the 
prison cell, I still hoped to be with her once 
more. Woe is me! with my own right hand I 
have destroyed my chance of being with her 
again. Yet, had I a thousand lives to live, I 
would not restrain my hand from doing that 
which I have done!" 

[64] * * * 



The Reckoning 

It was at the end of the year when Norqua 
breathed his last. A month before, the old 
sheik had passed to the bourne of his desire, 
Ura, in his turn, became the head of the tribe. 

It is written: ''Vengeance is mine," 
SAiTH the Lord. 

Man, through ignorance or through 

LACK OF spiritual UNFOLDMENT, BEING 

brought face to face with some great 
wrong, takes into his own hands that 
which clings far more to him in its 
retributive justice than to the one who 
did the wrong. 

In this wise plan of creation, — in the 
growth of man from the beginning, — this 
fundamental lesson is ever being taught : 
''as ye sow, so shall ye also reap," for 
each one must atone for his own short- 
COMINGS. Were it not so, how would the 

SOUL EXPAND INTO THE THING OF BEAUTY 
WHICH IT IS INTENDED THAT IT SHOULD BE? 



[65] 



CHAPTER IV 

WITH CLEAR VISION 

"I will go forth among men not mailed in scorn, 
But in the armor of a pure intent; 
And whether crowned or crownless when I fall, 
It matters not, so as God's will is done." 

— Alexander Smith. 



Hermes Antilles 

JoHANNESA Antilles' Father 

Adone Lonar 

Clion Corsa 

Afreeda Antilles' Mother 

Clione Alisse 

LoRETA Media 

LoRETA^s Child Eridie 



[66] 



WITH CLEAR VISION 



I HAVE made a call upon the Universal 
Memory, — a call which is being answered. 
In vision there comes to me a high moun- 
tain peak, — so high that I ask the range to which 
it belongs. Quick comes the response: ''It is 
one of the highest peaks of the Himalayas." 

Far up, and still up, I am borne, — over great 
ravines, along wide gaps, till at last I stand 
face to face with a mammoth cave. While I 
am endeavoring to decide to which point of 
the compass it opens, the sun shines directly in 
my face ; and, as I behold it, I know it to be the 
rising sun. 

Looking from the interior of the cave, 
through a wide gap, I see, to the right and in 
front of me, three peaks: the first two some- 
what lower than the one on which I am stand- 
ing; while the third — judging by the shadow 
which it throws — far out-reaches in height the 
other two. 

Turning my attention to the interior of the 
cave, I see at the end of an obtuse angle, facing 
the south-west, another opening. Traces of 
the hand of man, as well as of Nature, I ob- 

[67] 



SiGNOR 

serve on a closer survey, — primitive traces, of 
which one in particular makes me know that 
before this cave was inhabited by man, wild 
beasts had made it their lair. 

An opening in the roof of the cave indicates 
the work of man ; the smoke stains around its 
aperture, and the rude fireplace below it speak 
as plainly as words of their use. On this rough 
stone creation of man's invention has jbeen 
cooked a portion, at least, of the food, which 
sustained its former human inhabitants. 

A thick bed of moss and leaves in one corner 
also tells of its former use. One large slab, 
tilted on four smaller stones, would indicate a 
table; while several decayed benches, fastened 
with wooden spikes, make up the rude furnish- 
ings. But I am forgetting to make note of two 
large drinking cups, made of kneaded clay, 
and two long, spatula-shaped implements 
which are on the table. 

This is the first vision that I have of this 
cave ; then, as I dip deeper and still deeper into 
the memories of the past, thoughts flit to and 
fro, like living things, explaining the second 
vision which is shown me. 

* * * 

Long, long centuries ago, a man with snow- 
white locks toiled day by day up this moun- 
tain, leading by the hand a boy of five. 

[68] 



With Clear Vision 

The face of the man was, in the main, 
benign, but eyes and mouth spoke fixed re- 
solve. 

In the turns that he took on his ascent, it 
would seem as if this was not his first visit. 
Only once did he hesitate, and that was where 
Nature had put an impediment in the shape 
of a large boulder in his path. When the 
child's feet became weary, the father bore him 
in his arms; when the path was narrow on the 
edge of a precipice, he, with tender solicitude, 
held the child so that he could not see the 
perils on the way. 

When the cave was reached, he found that 
other tenants had pre-empted his claim: two 
monstrous beasts of that period when animals 
grew to gigantic proportions; and, as he faced 
the stare in their eyes and heard the snarl in 
their voices, thought, like a lightning flash, 
spoke to him with no undecided counsel. 

Casting out all fear, and realizing — through 
right understanding, — that to conquer a seem- 
ing evil is to be able to see only good, he at 
once held in his inner being communion with 
the source of all strength. 

The child, recognizing with the aptitude of 
children the lack of fear in his father, held his 
hand with that tender confidence, — that per- 
fect faith that all is well. 

[69] 



SiGNOR 

At first, seeing no movement on the part of 
the man and boy to enter the cave, fear of 
harm evidently fled from the animals; their 
snarls ceased; the ferocious glare in their eyes 
steadily disappeared; and, as if some memory 
had come to them of recognition as to what 
this man and boy had been in the long aeons of 
the past, they showed unmistakable delight. 

An hour passed; then the man and boy 
entered fearlessly into the cave without moles- 
tation. 

It was not long before father and son, locked 
in each other's embrace, fell into a dreamless 
sleep. The two huge animals also slept. The 
cave was illuminated by a tender white light; 
for He who is mighty to save held them in His 
protection. 

The night passed, and, with the early morn- 
ing sun, the ferocious denizens of the wild 
stole quietly from the cave. Later, when the 
father and son awoke, their hearts were filled 
with gratitude for their deliverance. 

Several days passed, during which the father 
set in order the cave. More than once, while 
thus occupied, he had seen curious eyes staring 
at them. Once they heard a snort as of sur- 
prise, yet firm in the knowledge that fear 
begets fear, — trust, confidence, — the father 
went on with his homely tasks. 

[70] 



With Clear Vision 

On that night, which had seen his work 
ended, he, missing the boy, who had seemed 
but a few moments before at his side, glanced 
beyond a dense thicket and saw him sitting 
beside the largest of their animal neighbors, 
talking to him as though he could understand 
every word he said. 

Much to the father's surprise, he saw the 
mate approach the boy, with a fragrant shrub 
between her jaws. This she dropped at the 
child's feet. The boy clapped his hands and 
laughed ; and the father, watching the animals, 
was certain that he read in their eyes pleas- 
urable satisfaction. 

Days passed into weeks, — weeks into 
months, — months into years; and the father 
taught his boy — more by example than by pre- 
cept — how to understand and to commune 
with Nature. He taught him, through long 
contemplation of a given object, to perceive 
its habits, the reason for its growth, the need 
of perpetuating itself. In certain instances, he 
was able to teach reincarnation, as well as evo- 
lution and involution; until the boy, like his 
father, spent long hours in silent meditation as 
to the whys and wherefors of things. 

In time, he learned that out of the Central 
Source of All Being radiates the warmth and 
glow of life; that Law is immutable; that 

[71] 



SiGNOR 



through the different gradations, from the 
highest to the lowest, these factors are essential 
to the perfect manifestation of the Creative 
Power; that man, in both scales of being, 
through evolution and involution, ultimately 
gains his divine birthright. 

The long days passed one by one, and the 
wild things of the air and of the forest became, 
not only teachers in the great work of soul 
growth, but became as tried and true friends. 
Fear had been eliminated and in its place per- 
fect confidence had struck deep its roots. 

This was not only true as to animal and 
bird life, but, so thoroughly had father and son 
come in touch with tree and shrub, with every 
growing thing beneath and above the soil, that 
they recognized that for the lowest, as well as 
for the highest, there is a duty to be performed. 

Faith — which is more than blind confidence 
— brought home to them as an irrefutable fact, 
through the power of silence, rather than 
speech, that the Divine Creative Process is one 
and the same in all. 

In the long hours of the night they watched 
the heavens and saw, in the great magnitude 
spread out before them, much of which man 
has yet to learn. 

The recluse in his day had studied astron- 
omy. He reasoned from cause to effect 

[72] 



With Clear Vision 

through his intuitional perception, and called 
upon his ego to add the quota of information 
as to race and subrace, gained through the dif- 
ferent cycles of past experience. 

Astrologically he had learned that other 
worlds, larger than the one which he inhab- 
ited, were, like the individual, essential to the 
working out of the Divine plan. He recog- 
nized a fixed principle underlying all things; 
and that, the slightest digression from Eternal 
Law involved the working out in the human 
understanding a tangle, so great, that ages 
were often needed for the solution. 

Thus, step by step, he led his son into the 
knowledge of Nature; also of the need of the 
astral planes of existence: but, above all, he 
dwelt upon that which he termed the three 
fundamentals: Mind, Soul, and Body. 

When the thought of these were firmly fixed 
in his son's mind, he aroused within him the 
desire to open wide the floodgates, through the 
soul force within him, in order that the flow- 
ing spiritual current might teach him, that life 
is not for a day, a year, or a certain section of 
what is called time. Through the law of 
Karma and reincarnation, man touches every 
angle of experience; and, outgrowing errors — 
either of ignorance, or intent, — ultimately is 

[73] 



SiGNOR 

purged, as gold when passed through the cru- 
cible of fire. 

One night their conversation became more 
intimate than usual. The father called his son 
by name, saying: 

"Antilles, thy mother is living. If thou 
shouldst ever meet her, thou canst prove thy 
identity by these words: 'Better to save one 
soul than to live a lie.' She will understand. 
I have taught that there is no death; taught 
thee, through Nature, that what seems to die 
but enters into a new existence. Life is now; 
hath always been ; will always be. The change 
which man calls death is the working out of 
Law, which says: 'Every day is a new birth.' 
Through the hours of sleep at night, we pass, 
through a similar state of transition, that por- 
tal which gives us the opportunity to unfold, 
— to perfect ourselves. Therefore, it is not a 
time for mourning but for rejoicing. All 
pleasant memories cling to us like the perfume 
of flowers. All unpleasant experiences, if they 
have taught the lesson intended, make us 
stronger, clearer of vision, — more purposeful. 
If we have not learned the lesson, then sooner 
or later, through harder experiences, we come 
into the knowledge of Truth. 

''A voice has told me, that soon thou wilt be 
without me in the form. Remember! even 

[74] 



With Clear Vision 

when thou no longer seest me as now, I shall be 
near thee; our auras will interblend at such 
times when a word of counsel upon my part 
may help thee to breast the hill of knowledge 
and show thee the path. 

^'The hour of my going, I cannot tell; nor 
would I, if I could. I came here, resolved that 
thou shouldst learn great truths — truths that 
would protect thee, — would teach thee, that 
the greatest desire of man should be to know 
himself, through the right understanding of 
his relationship to the Eternal Mind. I leave 
thee — when the call comes — with the realiza- 
tion that thou hast truths to give out to others. 

"The twenty-five years that we have lived 
here together have prepared thee for the work 
to be done. Always remember, that thou hast 
been a comfort — a source of courage — and a 
stimulus to him whom thou only knowest as 
father, — one of the most holy words in any 
language." 

The morning following this conversation 
found Antilles facing the future, dependent on 
that which he had learned. 

* * * 

In silent meditation, — in deep contempla- 
tion of past, present, and future he is shown 
me. He did not weep, but from the moment 
upon which he looked upon his father's face, 

[75] 



SiGNOR 

bearing the signet of majesty such as only 
comes to those who have seen with clear vision 
the glorified splendor of the celestial spheres, 
there came three distinct lines on Antilles' face. 
Two of these set the seal of fixed resolve, such 
as his father had always worn; the other gave 
to the whole face a great spirituality. 

As he looked at his father that morning, he 
realized a subtle change, taking place within 
himself. Youth had given way to the demands 
which his soul-nature was making upon him. 
He did not feel alone; but, as if such a thing 
was an assured fact, he felt as though every 
beat of the systole and diastole of his heart was 
in perfect rythm with his father, — every 
thought seemed weighted with clearness, intel- 
lectually; and purity of strength, spiritually. 
Every thought was freighted with perfect con- 
fidence that, when he should put his hand to 
the plough, the work, which he would accom- 
plish for his brother man, would be immeas- 
urable. 

Ten days passed. Then — one night while 
viewing the heavens, as had been his wont with 
his father, — a great peace pervaded his whole 
being. Somewhere in that higher spiritual 
consciousness, which is the possession of all 
offspring of God, be heard the well-loved 
voice of his father: 

[76] 



With Clear Vision 

"Set in order thy thoughts, dear Antilles, as 
well as this habitation, where we have passed 
so many pleasant hours. Bid farewell to every 
bird and beast, tree and shrub, and to the mag- 
nificence of the view; then wend thy feet 
downward, and still downward from this high 
peak, knowing that all will be well with thee. 
Do not feel that thou are leaving this beloved 
spot, never to return ; for when I was twenty- 
eight years old, I had a call, in the midst of 
great trouble, which came to me, through 
heavenly messengers, from a wise and good 
man, who had lived for forty years in this cave. 
After I arrived, he imparted to me many valu- 
able secrets; then, knowing that his summons 
had come, he bade me return to my home in 
the world of events, saying, from knowledge 
imparted to him by a prophetic vision : When 
thy boy, to whom thou hast given my name, is 
five years of age, return with him and take up 
thy home in this cave ; teach him what I have 
taught thee and all that may yet be imparted to 
thee. Then, when thy work here is finished, 
bid him go forth and teach the good tidings 
which shall help others, through devious ways, 
to reach the pinnacle of understanding!' 

''My son, the time has come for thee to go 
forth! I will never be far away from thee. 
Peace be with thee!" 

[77] 



SiGNOR 

A great surprise awaited Antilles on that 
morning on which he turned his steps down 
the side of the mountain. Before him, behind 
him, and on either side, were his animal 
friends, while the heavens were so thick with 
birds, so filled with the melody of their songs, 
that he could not refrain from lifting his voice 
in an anthem of praise. The sun, as if not to 
be outdone, sent spikes of gold through the 
boughs of the trees : dancing motes of yellow 
gave to the thickets and to the long vines a 
beauty unsurpassed. 

As he walked near the edge of a precipice, 
he remembered his father's tender solicitude 
for him. Every step of the way seemed to 
hold recollection of that father's loving care. 
Intangible, misty forms floated about him, and 
always he felt the presence of his father. 

All the way down the mountain he won- 
dered if ever before such honor was paid to 
man ; for the dumb creatures about him spoke, 
as plainly as words could have done, of the 
knowledge — gained in some way — of his 
approaching departure. 

Surely no triumphal procession of old, no 
wonderful pageant of royalty could express a 
fractional part of the love shown by these 
friends of the wild. Slowly as they neared the 
base of the mountain, one after another turned 

[78] 



With Clear Vision 

facing him, then, without a backward glance, 
began the ascent homeward. Antilles sat down 
until the last one had passed, until the throat 
of the last bird had given forth its sweet fare- 
well. 

* * * 

Days passed before he saw signs of human 
habitation. He realized that he must look 
strange to the inhabitants, and, as soon as he 
could conveniently, he completely metamor- 
phosed his appearance. Six weeks after leav- 
ing the cave, no one would have recognized 
him as the young man, escorted by his wild- 
wood friends. 

At last Antilles reached a spot where his 
father had said he was to stop for a while ; and 
that very night, out on a great common, he 
addressed many of his kind, who, hearing him, 
marvelled at his erudition. 

By degrees the sick came to him to be 
healed; those in trouble for advice; while sim- 
ple truths, as they fell from his lips, were dis- 
cussed for weeks. 

Finally he found himself the center of a cir- 
cle in which almost every nationality was rep- 
resented. His fame went abroad ; his teachings 
began to leaven the thoughts of those who 
flocked to hear him; for his manner was so 
simple, his voice so resonant and sympathetic, 

[79] 



SiGNOR 

that more than one remarked, that one felt the 
better in every way after listening to him. 

Many wondered from whence he came, but 
there was a certain native dignity about An- 
tilles, which made the most inquisitive hesitate 
to speak to him upon any other subject than 
those which he introduced of his own volition. 

One night, while watching the stars, he 
heard his father's voice, saying: 

'^Man was not made to live alone. Tomor- 
row, Antilles, look at the maiden, who will 
hand thee flowers, with a personal thought. 
See if she seems fair in thine eyes ; if she quick- 
ens within thee sensations akin to love. Do 
not be hasty in forming an opinion; but, in a 
month from now, if thou canst see that she 
grows more fair to thee, that thou feelest it 
would be well, — would add to thy happiness 
to have her live with thee as thy spouse, then 
take the thought into silent meditation, and, at 
the end of the second month, act upon thy 
conviction." 

Antilles did as his father suggested, and, at 
the end of the second month, in a conversation 
which he held with his father, he expressed the 
wish that, if he were worthy, he might ask her 
consent. It was granted, and the third month 
from the day she handed him the flowers, 

[80] 



With Clear Vision 

Alisse and Antilles started out upon their new 
journey of experience, making plans for the 
betterment of mankind. 

"Antilles, I have often heard thee say: 'My 
father bade me do this or do that.' Didst thou 
not tell me that he was dead? And, if so, how 
canst thou know? Surely he has no voice with 
which to speak!" 

"But, my beloved, when one knows the 
Truth, then there can be neither death nor 
barriers between us, nor between any where 
love keeps the bond of union. The time will 
come when that, which my father taught me 
in the past, will be to thee as to me, — undenia- 
ble truths. Remember, that for almost thirty 
years I have been taught by one of the wisest 
of men. When thou knowest one-third that 
which he taught me, thou wilt not wonder; 
until then, trust me!" 

* * * 

Ten years later, Antilles with his beloved 
wife, Alisse, and their three children started 
for the cave. 

This time the number of those, who escorted 
them a part of the way, was less than that of 
the host, which had accompanied Antilles 
when he left the cave ; yet they made a goodly 
showing, for each man and woman had learned 

[81] 



SiGNOR 

from him the great secret of the right under- 
standing of each plane of existence; that love 
was the foundation of all Truth ; that '4ove is 
the fulfilling of the law"; that love sufifereth 
long and is kind." 

Alisse's two sisters, Media and Eridie, were 
to go with them all the way; while two young 
men friends, Lonar and Corsa, were also 
going, that they might have the opportunity of 
receiving private instruction from Antilles. 
* * * 

Truth is the same today as in the beginning; 
and in the telling of these ^^Sojourners by the 
Way," I as the one who sees and hears, who 
receives the uprush from the Universal Mem- 
ory, take the liberty of relating the funda- 
mental principle in the phraseology that seems 
to express it with clearness and force to my 
consciousness. So in using the above quota- 
tions I have not used literally the words which 
I heard, but think it best to state the thought 
in words familiar to all. 

Seven years have passed since Antilles' 
return to the well-beloved cave, — seven years 
in which his children, his wife's sisters and 
Lorna and Corsa, as well as Alisse have entered 
into that close contemplation of nature, that 
Antilles had, in the past, under his father's 
instruction, pursued. 

[82] 



With Clear Vision 

At first, to all but Alisse, the hours passed 
in silent meditation were irksome; but by 
degrees, first one and then another began to 
feel the inflow of the spirit, — to grasp through 
the vibration from the lowest to the highest: 
first the close intuitive perception; then the 
soul-consciousness which brought them into 
harmony with Infinitude. 

Seeing them as I see them now, pictured 
upon the walls of memory, each one in a com- 
fortable, easy position, devoid of tension, each 
face illumined by the thoughts dwelling 
within, each eye giving in its expression the 
current, bearing the mind on to beatific vision, 
— I realize the possibilities of man. 

This vision has taught me a lesson : that it is 
not in the busy haunts of men, the strife of 
physical existence, that one reaches that per- 
fect vibration, which makes one's life adapta- 
ble to unfoldment. 

As I see them sitting on the lap of Nature, 
from the oldest to the youngest, imbued with 
peace without and peace within, I know 
beyond the question of a doubt, that the seven 
years, passed in close contemplation and silent 
meditation, have left in each the seed of eter- 
nal communion with the Source of All Being. 

On their homeward journey they met with 
three strangers: a man of about thirty, a child, 

[83] 



I 



SiGNOR 



and an imperious looking woman, with discon- 
tent writ large upon her face, who seemed 
about seventy-five years of age. 

The man inquired for the home of the 
famous Antilles, but, before Antilles could 
reply, the woman asked: "Where is thy 
father?" 

"My father? He is no longer of this world, 
only in spirit." 

"And thou art Antilles! Did not he tell 
thee that thou hadst a mother?" 

"Yes." 

"And what did he say of her?" 

"He bade me, when I met her, to say : 'Better 
to save one soul, than to live a lie!' " 

A hollow laugh broke the stillness: "I can 
see! Thou art thy father's son!" 

Late one night, Antilles was called to his 
mother's bedside. He saw at a glance, that 
fear held perfect control. His first effort was 
to release her from fear. 

He took her hand — cold and damp — and 
pressing it gently, said: 

"We live: we suffer the pangs of regret, 
that, in the end, we may take up the broken 
threads and, in a re-birth, correct our mistakes. 
Thus, my mother, we all live. Some have 
more to atone for than others; but no matter 
how great, — how heinous the mistake, the 



With Clear Vision 



opportunity is given to gain touch with our 
soul-nature. Fear not, nor let your thoughts 
be at this moment of what might have been. 
Instead, know that what seemeth evil is but 
the opening wedge which giveth us glimpses 
of peace. 

"Do not draw away from me! Am I not 
your son, as counts the world? We are all one 
in the Source of Being. As you enter through 
the portal, hold this thought: 'Life is eternal, 
and I am a part of Life.' It is not of man that 
you need to ask forgiveness, nor of God in 
words, but in the atonement, through right 
living and right thinking; and when the great 
truth comes home to you, that evil has no real 
existence — whether it be now and here, or in 
some other surroundings — that which seemeth 
to be shedding fear about you will be dispelled 
by the sunshine of love." 

A convulsive clasp of Antilles' hand caused 
him to look into his mother's face. In her 
eyes he read that the sun was even now illum- 
ining the horizon of her future ; for the ''now" 
is both present and future. 

Antilles, on his return to his wife, told her 
of what had passed, and, then, all had been 
done that could be done for his mother, they 
held her in the loving thought of her oneness 
with the Creator. 

[85] 



SiGNOR 

When Antilles had reached the age of three 
score years and ten, he, without any mortal 
sickness, fell asleep as doth a little child whose 
day has been bright and happy, and who, 
feeling the protecting arms about him, gives 
no heed to the hour of his awakening on the 
morrow, but yields himself to pleasant dreams. 

His life had been a benediction: the seed 
he had sown had yielded a generous harvest. 
Men spoke of him as they now speak of Christ. 
Little children went to him without fear, 
knowing that in him they had a friend. 



[86] 



CHAPTER V 



THE SOLVING OF LIFE'S PROBLEMS 

"Cast thyself into the will of God and thou shalt be God. For thou 
art God, if thy will be the Divine will. This is a great secret; it is the 
mystery of redemption." 

— Anna Bonus Kingsford. 

"So near to grandeur is our dust, 
So near is God to man, 
When Duty whispers low, 'Thou must,' 
The youth replies, 'I can.' " 

— Emerson. 

Hermes Lord Lando 

JoHANNESA The Stranger 

Adone Priest Dormo 

Clion Aremes 

Hermes^ Son^ Aros Harnese 

LoRETA Hawksly 

Afreeda Helena 

Clione Lord Lando's Mother 

Loreta's Child The Tire Woman 



[87] 



THE SOLVING OF LIFE'S 
PROBLEMS 

IT is a peaceful scene that is shown me: a 
large, rambling house, with two wings, one 
on the west, the other on the east; broad 
galleries extending along the ends of the wings 
and across the facade. This house is venerable 
in appearance. Great palm trees in regular 
rows lead from the road and past the western 
wing, covering several acres. The broad 
aisles between the trees are over-shadowed by 
the wide-spreading branches of the palms, giv- 
ing one the sensation of restfulness. 

Far in the depths of this plantation is a 
temple, overgrown with vines. The steps, 
leading to its entrance, give proof of the many 
worshippers who have ascended with sandaled 
feet to its threshold. I see white robed priests 
with silent steps, who, entering, are soon lost to 
sight in the dim recesses. 

In the center of this temple is a statue, at 
least ten feet in height. One foot is deformed. 
The face is tranquil, — intellectual as well as 
spiritual. Around the head is a nimbus; and 
[88] 



The Solving of Life's Problems 

as I view this majestic v^ork of man, two 
strangers enter the temple and, kneeling before 
this oracle, ask its advice. 

The elder of the two asks the simple ques- 
tion : ^Ts it east or is it west?" 

The younger man hesitates, then says in a 
low tone: ''My chances of success?" 

Far off are heard strains of sweet music; the 
cadence draws nearer and nearer. Then comes 
the reply to the first interlocutor: 

''Out of the west!" 

The diapason of sound swells and swells 
until one hears in it the roll of chariots, the 
shrieks of wounded; then, still louder and 
clearer, the war cry of some great leader — the 
cry of victory. Gradually the music changes 
to a minor key, — the strains are like a sweet 
lullaby; then there comes a paean of rejoicing, 
in which every note seems to echo the word 
"Success!" 

As the two men listen to the harmony of 
sound, it seems to them as if the face of the 
gigantic statue reflects the thought expressed 
in the music. 

The strangers press their foreheads to the 
base on which the great statue rests, then, 
arising, one turns to the right, the other to the 
left, and each enters a box-like cell where sits 
a priest, robed in white. 

[89] 



SiGNOR 



Into the lichen-covered east wing of the 
house the younger man hastens, after receiving 
the blessing of the priest. With eager steps he 
hastens down a narrow corridor till he comes 
to a large tapestry, which conceals the door 
of entrance now standing ajar. 

Here he hesitates; then, turning into a small 
ante-room, he comes face to face with his 
mother, a tall, commanding woman, whose 
hair — carried back in a simple coiffure, is 
almost as white as her cap. 

In her brown eyes lurks a smile as she says: 
"Lando, why this haste? Thy wife is well. 
Thy heir, though but three weeks old, will, if 
I mistake not, give joy to both parents. But, 
come! You never could wait! Step softly, 
though, for mother and child are sleeping." 

On a large bed, hung with velvet draperies, 
lie mother and child. The young lord takes in 
the graceful sweep of his wife's white arm on 
which rests the face of his heir, and his mother, 
watching him, sees an expression, in which is 
mingled pride, awe, and love, flit over his face. 
As she sees the wife's blue eyes opening, she 
turns aside, feeling within her woman's heart 
the sacredness of the meeting. Quietly she 
re-enters the ante-room, but not before she 
hears her beloved son cry out: 

[90] 



The Solving of Life's Problems 



"My love, my wife, — you have given to me 
an heir!" 

* * * 

This has all come to me as one might wit- 
ness a moving picture: the home — half castle, 
half manor-house — the plantation of palms, 
the temple, the faith in the oracle and the 
silent communion with the priest; and, fol- 
lowing the blessing, the eager steps which 
brought Lando, first in the presence of his 
mother, then in that of his young wife and 
heir. 

The other stranger, up to the point of their 
parting, each to consult the priest, I also see 
as part of the picture; but now the Inner 
Vibration quickens. I not only see in vision, 
but am borne with this stranger away, with 
incredible speed, from the old priest who 
blesses him. 

The distance traversed I cannot measure; 
time and space are rapidly losing significance. 
I know that I cross hills and valleys, skirt 
inland seas, meeting no one as we pass along; 
am borne over great ravines by a power un- 
known to me, and yet, — this power emanates 
from a color — a deep red, graded to a pinkish 
gray. 

On, on we go, feeling no fatigue, recog- 
nizing no landmark, still feeling this urge as 



SiGNOR 

though there were need of haste; realizing no 
presence but our own. The stranger does not 
seem to be conscious of me, whether I am in 
advance or he, I feel his presence strongly. 

As yet I am not shown the object which is 
drawing us on like a magnet, nor do I get even 
the shadow of a reason as to what is expected 
of me or of him. 

The light, which was that of noon when we 
started, has changed to that of early evening; 
I can see stars beneath me, to the right and to 
the left, and, looking up, I can see far above 
me, more and more stars — many of them 
worlds in miniature. 

All at once I become conscious of sound like 
a soft, tremulous whisper, and I am aware that 
we are not alone. The shapes around me are 
misty, — some more defined than others. Sud- 
denly music, as from a great distance, greets 
us, — music full of rejoicing and welcome ; and 
yet I am not certain whether it is advancing 
to meet us, or, keeping out of our vision, her- 
alding our approach. 

A sudden tremor — a strong vibration, — 
almost a rocking motion — causes me to make 
note of the color which is now bearing us 
onward. Much to my surprise, I find the tint 
to be primrose; at times flashes of an exquisite 
green, which before I can fix it in my mind 

[92] 



The Solving of Life's Problems 

becomes blue — a blue never to be forgotten. 

In my great interest in these color waves, I 
have not heeded the music nor the marked 
changes that are taking place about us. For 
the first time I hear the voice of the stranger 
v^ith whom I have been travelling. In its tone 
is color, fragrance, and exquisite charm; har- 
mony seems to express itself in every word: 

'^Thus is the prophecy of my youth realized. 
I feel the thrill of celestial life in every part. 
I have awakened to my real self; I have come 
in touch with the Infinite; I am nearing the 
Holy of Holies! The priest said: ^One more 
test you will have to pass, then that which for 
years you have been seeking, — that which for 
years you have been reaching out to attain, 
through right thinking and right living 
through many incarnations, will be yours!' 
Furthermore he added — that venerable priest 
— that were he to tell me the one great ordeal 
through which I must yet pass, it might take 
from me that perfect trust, that freedom from 
fear, that recognition of my oneness with Eter- 
nal Life, and cause me to fall when my whole 
being was expanding, when the glorious sun- 
shine otherwise would be mine." 

* * * 

The young lord, as he drew his wife and 
child into his arms, whispered in her ear: 

[93] 



SiGNOR 



"Dearest, thou hast been generous in thy 
gift. I would gladly have welcomed a daugh- 
ter, but an heir — a son to bear his father's name 
— is a treasure above price! And such a 
comely boy — with blue eyes and my black 
hair; eyes fearless in expression, chin firm, 
like those of our house, and a smile — thy smile 
— the one that did lure me to thy side. I am 
proud of thee and of our son! Our mother 
prophesies great things for my heir, as does 
the oracle; for I did not know the babe had 
yet been born, and knew it not until I heard 
the lullaby and the paean of success which fell 
upon my ear with a note of victory. The 
priest, Dormo, told me that I was a father 
and he did bless thee, my dearest Helena, and 
our son. He did also chide thee, dearest, 
saying that thou hadst a will of thine own, and 
wouldst not consent to certain rites until my 
return. The order shall go forth this very 
hour for great rejoicing, and, in pomp and 
state, with my men-at-arms, my vassals, and 
all the gentry present, he, who will yet do 
great deeds, shall be given a name sanctioned 
by Thaut!" 

Pressing burning kisses upon her lips and 
cheeks, he went to the ante-room to consult 
his mother, for before the sun had gone down 
everything must be arranged for the early 

[94] 



The Solving of Life's Problems 

morning. He did not tell his wife, that, before 
two days had passed, he must ride forth again 
with his retainers to do battle. 

The morning dawned — a tremulous, pearly 
tint — then, as though the bond which held 
Phoebus in leash was suddenly snapped, he 
rode forth majestically, flooding the world 
with royal colors; then, still ascending, became 
a golden ball of living fire. 

All was stir and excitement. In the broad 
aisles of the palm plantation, the morning 
light disclosed long tables on wooden trestles; 
vines, soft and dewy, with diamond drops 
glistening on their tender green, encircled 
great baskets of fruit and otherwise added to 
the decoration. Flowers, brilliant in coloring, 
gave their quota of beafuty to well spread 
tables. Horses, great war horses, champed 
their bits and made their harness rattle, 
pawing the ground beneath their feet, feeling 
with that subtle instinct of animals, that some- 
thing outside of the usual was to occur. 

Out on the broad gallery was the family 
group and white robed priests, making a pic- 
ture never-to-be-forgotten. Music came from 
the temple, — music such as is rarely heard in 
these later days; music that brought out such 
a combination of colors, that earth and heaven 
seemed to fairly radiate with every new vibra- 

[95] 



SiGNOR 

tion of sound, tints so beautiful, that words 
are incapable of describing them. 

As the music swelled louder and louder, the 
great door of the temple was thrown open and 
every eye was attracted to the colossal statue of 
Thaut. Hanging to his mammoth arms, lying 
on the base at its feet, were chains, pendants, 
and bags of uncut jewels, each facet adding a 
tenfold splendor to the scene. 

Slowly the diapason of sound dwelt, as it 
were, in woody dells, — in the tree-tops and the 
highest mountain peaks; then, with one grand 
symphony, the strains of martial music 
dropped quietly into a tender undertone. 

Down the temple steps — seven abreast — 
came twenty-one white robbed priests, on this 
day wearing regalias, be jeweled, — in the 
center, a star of pigeon-red rubies. Each 
priest bore in his right hand a hat, and, 
attached to his left side, a sword. 

Following these, sitting upon a large globe, 
borne high in air by great eagles, the head of 
the order, also robbed in white, looked forth 
upon the vast multitude expecting him. The 
eye was struck by the delicate shade of blue 
which surrounded him, and, in a monotone, 
often heard when the sea breaks upon the 
shore, came the sound of voices in praise of 
their deity, Ra. 

[96] 



The Solving of Life's Problems 

Then came — seven abreast — tvs^enty-one 
more white-robed priests. The procession 
passed to the great green before the venerable 
house of the Lando's, just as seven more youth- 
ful anchorites, robed in v^hite, came, bearing 
a chalice of gold. 

The lord of the manor, w^ith his heir upon 
his arm, saluted, then held forth the child to 
receive the benediction. Gentry, men-at-arms, 
vassals, all held their breath as the vs^ords wert 
spoken vs^hich pronounced this babe to be 
know^n in future as "Hermes." Thus vv^as a 
great honor bestowed upon the House of 
Lando. 

* * * 

Without warning the vision left me. 

Long before the last remnant of the pomp 
and pageantry had fully passed from sight, the 
sound of music fell upon my ear. Then, as if 
I heard a voice from a long, long distance, I 
felt the impelling force of some great urge, 
and found myself rapidly passing over the 
ground over which I had traveled previously 
with the stranger. 

As, with great velocity, I was borne onward 
and upward, I perceived that I was steeped 
in color, — red, green, blue, purple, and, later 
on, an indescribable effulgence, as though I 

[97] 



SiGNOR 

were looking at a white light whose strict 
purity at first reflected tints such as I had 
never before seen. 

At last, so dazzling did it become, that I felt 
a great awe fall upon me; then it turned to a 
translucent whiteness, and out of this I heard 
a voice, majestic in utterance, compassionate, 
and tender, — the embodiment of love and har- 
mony, — saying: 

^'No more shalt thou feel the urge of the 
material worlds; thou hast passed the ordeal 
of fire: yet for aeons thou shalt sway an influ- 
ence over mankind, while yet having free 
access to the Holy of Holies! Life shall be 
to thee as an open book; the manifestations of 
life shall make possible the work thou hast 
yet to do. Never shall fear beset thy path. 
In what to many seemeth hopeless evil, thou 
shalt ever see good. Thou shalt prophesy, — 
at all times thou shalt be faithful to thy trust, 
— even to the very last of thy pilgrimage. If 
thou so wishest, thou shalt live on every plane, 
for thou hast deserved the right to decide, and, 
having that right, thou mayest at times be in 
the world, but not of it. Depart now in peace, 
for the white stone hath been given thee!" 

Once again vision and hearing leave me ; the 
vibration of the Inner Voice transmits to me 
this message : 

[98] 



The Solving of Life's Problems 

''Thou hast been given a glimpse of a soul 
who, through many incarnations, through 
Karma, through persistent atonement, has at 
last passed through the ordeal of fire. The 
days of his incarnation are no more; he was 
given his choice: to abide forever in the Cen- 
tral Source of all Being, or to continue in a 
work for mankind, acting as manifestation of 
Eternal Good. The seal has been placed upon 
his forehead; the white stone with its new 
name has been given him. 

'Tt was impossible that thou shouldst see 
the ordeal of fire, but sufficient hath been 
shown thee, that, in giving it out to others, 
thou mayest help them along the Path. Often 
shalt thou see him who was a stranger to thee; 
but, not until long years have passed, wilt 
thou know who he really is!" 

* * * 

Down, down, and still down, borne on the 
wave of many a revealing color, my spirit 
illumined, my soul filled with peace, till — I 
find myself once more in the vine-colored tem- 
ple in the plantation of palms. 

The sound of martial music, the hurrying 
to and fro of equerries, the lusty oaths of the 
troopers, combined with the fretful pawing of 
the great war steeds in full harness, make me 

[99] 



SiGNOR 

aware, as do the vibrations of the Inner Voice, 
that this is not the peaceful spot that I had left 
freighted with benedictions and lusty re- 
joicing. 

Beneath all — through all — there is a note of 
menace. 

Swiftly I am borne to the chamber which 
holds the mother and her young babe, and 
there I see Lord Lando, in the paraphernalia 
of war. On the face of the young mother, 
pallid in its hue, is an expression of firm 
resolve. Her blue eyes are preternaturally 
bright, and ever and anon, there flits across her 
charming face indication of unshed tears. 

The baby, all unaware of what is taking 
place, sleeps peacefully in the arms of the 
nurse. 

A loud bray of trumpets awakes the babe, 
whose blue eyes, so like his mother's, express 
surprise but not alarm. A look of pride comes 
into the face of Lord Lando as he stoops and 
kisses the warm cheeks of his heir; then, 
with an embrace expressive of the deep love he 
bears his wife, he turns, as he nears the door, 
saying: "It will not be long, this parting, dear 
heart" ; and then, as if he does not dare to utter 
another word, he hastens down the corridor, 
meeting his mother at the entrance door. 

[100] 



The Solving of Life's Problems 

As she looks upon her son, with an expres- 
sion of pride, blended with love, he says: 
''Guard my treasures; the priest says that vic- 
tory will be upon my banners. Farewell!" 

It is a goodly sight, this array of men, with 
faces alight with courage; and, as they pass 
down the road, many an eye is wet with tears, 
wondering if their loved ones will return to 
them. 

Days, weeks and months pass by. At first, 
men arrive bearing to the chatelaine news of 
her lord. By degrees these tokens of thought- 
fulness for her become less frequent, then 
cease. 

The child grows apace. Into the face of the 
mother — the Lady of Lando — comes an ex- 
pression of deep sadness; her tire-women strive 
with merry quips and solicitous attentions to 
bring back the color to her cheeks, the smile 
to her lips. 

At last, one day while mother and child and 
tire-women are in the plantation of palms, 
Hawksly, the head gardener, comes with swift 
feet to his lady, saying: 

''Down the road yonder, if I mistake not, 
coming at breakneck speed, is Hainese covered 
with the dust of travel, reeling to and fro in 
his saddle, and, he seems to be striving to outdo 
a pursuer!" 

[101] 



SiGNOR 

All is consternation. My lady hesitates; 
then, in a clear voice, says: ''Show him here 
at once!" 

Flainese salutes. Hawksly hands him a 
beaker of wine; the Lady of Lando motions 
for him to drink — to drink at once; for she 
sees that he is far spent. 

When Hainese has quafifed the very last 
drop from the beaker, he says: 

"My lord is a prisoner. A handful of men- 
at-arms is hastening with what speed they can 
to protect you and the heir. You are, with the 
household, to go to the temple and through its 
secret passages, and, with the guidance of the 
priest Dormo, hasten to safety! As long as 
possible, we will cover your retreat, and as 
well as possible protect our lord's property. 
Every moment is precious!" 

Acting on Hainese's instruction, the Lady 
of Lando, with the heir and her lord's mother 
and the tirewomen, follow the priest, Dormo, 
down, down, deep into the very bowels of the 
earth. 

So completely have they left the outer world 
behind them, that they do not hear the clash 
of arms, — the loud shouts of defiance; but, 
pressing onward and still onward, first into 
one circuitous passage, then into another, they 

[102] 



The Solving of Life's Problems 

hurry until, spent with fatigue, — unable to go 
farther, — they sink down in a state of complete 
exhaustion. 

A dark cloud obscures my sight; that which 
I have been seeing fades into a blurred vision. 
The panting breaths and harsh voices, 
freighted with fear, — all are as if they had 
never been. 

Then, a voice speaks to me and I obey its 
summons; for in this voice I perceive the 
vibrations of the Inner Voice, and know that 
I have a bidding of grave importance. 

For a brief spell I only realize the sensation 
of persistent movement — a movement which 
pervades every part, — a movement which 
makes me feel as if I were ascending and still 
ascending through the rarefied air; but 
whether it is east, west, north, or south, no 
inkling is given me. I hear the shouts of men, 
as if pitted against each other; hear the pierc- 
ing shrieks of horses and the cries of wounded 
men; and even as I hear these sounds — so 
frightful— I still am borne onward, forward, 
ever in the midst of the cpnfusion, all of which 
is shut out from my sight. 

Again a tremulous light, blood-red in color, 
shoots up before me. Once again my direction 
is turned without any volition upon my part; 
and the sounds, which have wracked me, tor- 

[103] 



SiGNOR 

tured me, drop away from me; and as with 
strained eyeballs, I endeavor to penetrate the 
darkness, the moon — that silver orb of night — 
discloses to me a palace, its marble defaced by 
age and growing lichens, still a thing of 
beauty, despite its wrecked fountains, its 
broken steps that lead to the river. The moon 
has touched all that is left which is beautiful 
with her silvery sheen, and I feel the peace- 
fulness, the radiance of the scene before me. 

As I stand, spell-bound by the magnificence 
about me, I hear the sound of muffled oars, 
men's voices which speak in an unknown 
tongue. I see, borne on a rough litter between 
four turbaned men, the Lord of Lando. 

Lower and lower I stoop to discover, if pos- 
sible, if life is still flowing through his veins; 
and, as I draw nearer and nearer, he opens his 
eyes, takes one swift glance about him, then 
closes them again. 

While the men are still bearing him on 
through the shattered lintels into the vast hall 
of this ruined palace, he lies immobile, seem- 
ingly lifeless. The turbaned bearers halt, as 
if awaiting orders how to proceed. A com- 
manding voice breaks the stillness, and they 
once more resume their burden. 

Directed only by the light of the moon, they 
turn through a wide corridor to the left, pass 

[104] 



The Solving of Life's Problems 

presently through a door at the right, and 
deposit the stalwart form of the Lord of Lando 
upon a broad couch, devoid of covering. 
Then, without a backward glance, the four 
men silently leave the room. 

For a short spell, profound silence reigns; 
then, I hear the sound of muffled oars, and a 
broken shaft of moonlight shows me a strange 
vessel, gliding down the river, so stealthily, 
that it seemed almost impossible that all that 
which I am seeing is anything but a dream. 

Glancing at the couch, I see that Lord 
Lando is stirring. Again I hear that com- 
manding voice, and, out of the dark shadows 
of the room, I see a man approach the couch; 
hear him say in a hushed tone : ''Be not uneasy ; 
an hour must pass before we can rescue you. 
Your only hope is in the belief that you are 
dead!" 

^ ^ ^ 

Once again the whole scene changes. I am 
on a journey. It is night; the heavens are 
studded thickly with stars. At the bow I per- 
ceive this commanding figure seen in the pal- 
ace. Orders are issued to the sailors of this 
swiftly gliding craft, which they, with alacrity, 
obey. 

The morning dawns. Evidently this strange 

[105] 



SiGNOR 



craft is nearing its destination. As I wonder 
what stately city this may be that we are 
approaching, Lord Lando appears on deck; 
his right arm is in a sling, while there is a 
slight limp in his walk. 

Before the sun rises, three men are put on 
shore: Lord Lando, his friend, and an old 
man with snow-white locks, Aremes. Within 
the hour these three are conveyed to a stately 
mansion, where evidently they are expected. 

As they cross the threshold, swift steps of 
dainty feet come running down the hall; arms 
of snowy whiteness are thrown around Lord 
Lando's neck; and husband and wife, for a 
brief instant, are united in a close embrace. 

The gurgling laugh of a young child is 
heard, and the group hastens to enter the wide 
open door, from whence flows a light of wel- 
come. There waiting to greet them, is Lord 
Lando's mother, in her arms, the beloved 
Hermes. 

^ 

Five years have elapsed and the group, once 
seen entering the stately mansion in Alexan- 
dria, is sailing down the Nile. 

Reminiscences of that night, upon which her 
lord was rescued, are being related by Aremes, 
and the young wife's heart, as she listens, 

[106] 



The Solving of Life's Problems 

expands with pride as descriptions of her hus- 
band's prowess fall from the lips of this ven- 
erable man. 

* * * 

Twelve years later, in a sudden storm while 
they are all once more together sailing down 
the River Nile, their ship is attacked by Turk- 
ish pirates. 

So sudden — so unexpected is this attack, — 
so great is the horde of these destroyers, that, 
in less than a half hour, the good ship, with her 
human freight, is drawn down, — down into 
the very depths, never to rise again. 

This sudden passing out, — this unex- 
pected entrance into another plane of 
life, awakens in those who still remain 
on the earth plane the ever-recurring 
question as to the reason for such things. 

to those to whom the summons has 

COME IS REVEALED THE ANSWER: In THE VERY 
SUDDENNESS OF THE CHANGE, A LIGHT, SUCH 
AS IS NOT SEEN BY MORTAL MAN, MAKES ALL 
THINGS CLEAR. WE LIVE IN EACH INCARNA- 
TION TILL SUCH TIME WHEN TO EXPAND BY 
AID OF OUR SOUL NATURE WE ARE AROUSED TO 
THE NECESSITY OF GIVING UP WHAT WE HOLD 
MOST DEAR. THUS WE ACQUIRE THE POWER 
WITH WHICH TO SEE WHEREIN WE HAVE MADE 

[107] 



SiGNOR 

OUR MISTAKES, AND, WITH THIS KNOWLEDGE, 
COMES THE QUICKENING WHICH LEADS US 
NEARER AND STILL NEARER THE KINGDOM. 



[108] 



CHAPTER VI 



THE TREASURE TRUST 

"If the life of Nature is from time to time, and under conditions, 
raised to the intense requisite level, we are in the presence of elemental 
forces whose character primitive man has not entirely misunderstood." 

— E. D. Fawcett. 



Hermes, 
Adone . . 
Clion . . 



Afreeda 

Clione 

LORETA 

Loreta^s Child 



Serveus 

Venituri 

Erdesto 

Sandrine, First Appearance 

Serveus' Mother 

Erweeda 

Madella 

The Roman Matron 



[109] 



THE TREASURE TRUST 



SEEKING for a certain incarnation, frag- 
ments of which, from time to time, have 
awakened within me the desire to know, 
not only the birthplace of the incarnation, but 
the outgrowth and final unfoldment of four 
important factors that have been shown me, 
last night a vision of ancient Rome came to me. 

So persistent did this vision become, that I 
called upon the Universal Mind to answer 
three questions: first, whether the real origin 
of this incarnation, which had so quickened my 
consciousness, lay in Rome; then, if so, — the 
period — whether ancient or modern; finally, 
if this great empire held the birthplace and 
the factors, the fragments of which had made 
me feel, that only through the Universal Mind 
and the vibrations of the Inner Voice could I 
ascertain fully what I desired. 

Three distinct times I have striven to gain 
that perfect placidity needful for clear vision. 
When least expected, the light of revelation 
brought from the hidden chambers of the past 
historical data, as well as personal facts, which 
[110] 



The Treasure Hunt 

alone are found in the storehouse of the Uni- 
versal Memory. 

The first picture shown me was confused, 
yet it left no doubt as to the birthplace of the 
incarnation. With this thread, as it were, in 
my hand, I worked in and out through the 
labyrinth of temples, triumphal arches, till, 
seeing, with great clearness, a large square 
with a palace of great antiquity on its northern 
side, I felt quite sure that I had reached the 
point from whence would come to me the 
particulars of this incarnation. 

On a broad couch, hung about with strange 
tapestry, lay a man past the prime of life. His 
sleep was disturbed; he tossed his leonine head 
to and fro ; and the chestnut-brown curls, seem- 
ingly without a thread of gray, lay in tangled 
confusion from the crown of his head to below 
his shoulders. His face was red with fever, 
and low mutterings fell now and then from his 
parched lips. This man was of gigantic pro- 
portions. 

Standing at the head of the couch, watching 
every movement, was a tall, slight man, with a 
saturnine expression. More than once, as he 
saw his patron convulsed by the extremity of 
his suffering, he looked down with a light in 
his eyes and an expression about his mouth full 
of malicious satisfaction. 

[Ill] 



SiGNOR 

The room was dimly lighted, and Sandrine, 
standing at the head of the couch, did not per- 
ceive that the chamber held a third occupant, 
the son of his patron, till he felt a touch upon 
his arm, and heard a youthful voice say: "San- 
drine, you hate my father!" 

For a moment the saturnine man knew not 
what to say; then, with a feigned look of sur- 
prise, he asked in a low tone: 

^'How camest thou here? Thy father told 
thee not to enter this room without his per- 
mission." 

'^I know it, but I cannot sleep. My mother 
came to me and said : ^Go to thy father. Watch 
closely him who lurks beside his bed!' And 
so I came. But where is Arnich?" 

''The drunkard! He sleeps yonder, — a 
treacherous dog!" 

The boy's eyes flashed. One could see the 
strong resemblance between father and son at 
that moment, as with a smothered voice the 
boy said: 

''I would stake my life on Arnich's fidelity! 
Someone must have drugged his wine!" 

"So they did, young master! Ask Sandrine, 
thy father's friend, if he knows the hand that 
did it!" 



[112] 



The Treasure Hunt 

"Dog! Treacherous slave! Before tomor- 
row's dawn, the Tiber shall hold thee in its 
close embrace!" 

All three were startled when from the bed 
they heard a laugh and this question : 

"Art thou not afraid, Arnich? Thou 
drunken dog! Have I not proven thee treach- 
erous more than once?" 

"But, father! I have heard thee say that no 
man living had so true a friend as thou hadst 
in Arnich!" 

"Young master, take that pretty poignard 
and cut the bonds with which I am trussed like 
a fowl . It is time that I give to my lord the 
medicine the leech left for him." 

As Arnich rose to his feet, the room and its 
four occupants faded from my sight. As they 
did so, a light fell on the face of Sandrine, 
showing it distorted with a devilish malevol- 
ence. His patron also saw the expression. 

Everything was dark about me. I knew not 
whether I was in the palace or in the square 
outside. I experienced the sensation of some- 
thing loathsome near me, heard a hissing 
sound, then an unmistakable cry of distress, a 
call for help; heard the rushing of many feet, 
of sturdy blows rained upon heavy wooden 
panels. Men with panting breaths passed me 
in the darkness. 

[113] 



SiGNOR 

Again I heard the youth's voice cry out for 
succor; heard more feet rushing in the direc- 
tion of the voice. Then came a cry of victory, 
and sharp and shrill above the voices of stal- 
wart men, came that of the youth; and the 
Inner voice said to me: 

''Right has triumphed!" 

It was morning when I saw the castle again. 
Men-at-arms were in its courtyard; a strong 
guard surrounded the palace. On its second 
gallery, walking by the side of the youth, was 
a lady of stately presence. 

''Thou lookest pale, Madre! The fright, 
when they did push the attack through the 
secret passage and winding stair, to the room 
where my father lay, must have given thee a 
terrible shock. Hadst thou not awakened me 
from a sound sleep, and I not given a word of 
watchfulness to the captain of the guard, as 
well as speaking to Corando of what I feared, 
murder would have been done last night; for, 
as I touched Sandrine's arm, I saw, way up 
his sleeve, that poignard with its poisoned tip, 
and, as I gave out the call for help, I struck 
the arm of Sandrine with my own poignard, 
and heard his deadly weapon fall to the floor. 
He attempted to recover it, but I threw my 
arms about his slim legs and he fell to the 
floor. With a kick, I sent the weapon well 

[114] 



The Treasure Hunt 



under the couch, and again cried for succor. I 
then rushed to the entrance of the winding 
stair and pushed well home the bolt in its 
panel. It was their blows thou must have 
heard. Arnich, in his great arms, actually 
carried his master to the secret chamber we 
wot of; then he struck out lustily right and 
left, and soon our men were in their lord's 
room, fighting most bravely! 

^'AU is well, Madre, this morning; the fever 
has disappeared; the palace is well guarded, 
and Sandrine is in the black dungeon, where 
he can plot but not execute!" 

"Thy father hath many enemies; still the 
people love him, and, when in health, I feel 
he is invincible." 

The following day a young man with a 
large retinue was admitted into the palace. 
Venituri, the master, received him with much 
ceremony and dignity. They discussed, for 
over an hour in private conclave, questions of 
state, and then Erdesto said to his uncle: 

"Who planned this attack on thee? Surely 
not Sandrine!" 

"Yes; Sandrine! The man whose life I 
saved, — the man whom I have protected, 
showered benefits upon, but whose leading 



[115] 



SiGNOR 

vice is avarice. The gold of the Court must 
have tempted him. Thou knowest that I am 
in bad odor at Court?" 
'Where is he?" 

'^Sandrine? In the black dungeon, — there 
to remain for a while!" 

''I forgot to tell thee that Erweeda hath 
accompanied me. I fear the attentions of thine 
enemy at Court, and was on my way to place 
her under thy protection and that of my good 
aunt, when I heard of the attempt upon thy 
life. Now I scarce know what to do." 

"Do! Why leave her here! The palace is 
safer today than a week ago." 

Erdesto leaned forward and pressed his 
uncle's hand with a firm grasp as he said: 

"Ask me to the extent of my fortune, to the 
strength of mine own right arm, and of my 
retainers, and thou shalt not find them want- 
ing!" 

At that moment Serveus entered the room. 

"Welcome, Erdesto ! I have just come from 
Erweeda; she has grown most beautiful, and 
already she has comforted Madre. We have 
been having stirring times, Erdesto!" 

"So I hear; and that is not all. I could 
scarce get away from Arnich, so full of praise 
was he of thy bravery, Serveus." 

[116] 



The Treasure Hunt 

'^Serveus is my son. No one can ever say 
any of the Veniturii hath coward's blood in 
his veins! Twice the other night did he save 
my life, and in my greatest peril I could but 
smile when he so cleverly twisted Sandrine's 
heels from beneath him ; and when I heard the 
poignard intended for my heart kicked under 
the couch, I said to myself: 'The Veniturii 
ever acted quickly in the hour of need.' Would 
thou wert, Serveus, but a few years older; 
then should I ask Erdesto to look with favor 
upon thy hand for his twin sister, Erweeda !" 

A week later, the family of Venituri, under 
the direction of Arnich, were escorted through 
a private passage to a strong fortress on the 
Pallatine Hill, — a castellated fortress, cen- 
turies old, built by the forebears of the Veni- 
turii. 

There in this Roman stronghold, dwelt the 
aged dowager of the Veniturii with her young- 
est son's orphaned daughter, who was destined 
at some future date to become the bride of 
her cousin, Serveus. 

I am called to the Capitol, — called by the 
Inner Voice to see the effect of the news 
regarding the escape. 

Many conjectures are rife; many plots laid; 
many efforts are made to get once more within 

[117] 



SiGNOR 

the royal grasp, not only the family of the 
Veniturii, but the beautiful Erweeda. 

A peasant brought the tidings to the Court 
which gave information as to where the family 
were in hiding. Steps were taken to lure them 
out of their stronghold ; but the Veniturii were 
not easily deceived. 

At the end of three months the head of the 
family had regained his former strength and 
health. It was then that he grew restive ; and, 
one night with his devoted Arnich, stole out 
of the stronghold, both in the disguise of peas- 
ants. Arrayed thus, they made their way to 
the Capitol. 

At the end of the sixth day, they returned; 
but, unfortunately, as in answer to their priv- 
ate signal, the gate was thrown open to admit 
them, a broad-shouldered man, also in peas- 
ant's garb, managed to slip in without being 
observed. 

This man hid himself so cunningly that, 
when a great hue and cry, on the third night 
after their return, gave warning of treachery, 
but few of the garrison were awake. 

Arnich hastened the women into the secret 
passage; urged Serveus to go with them, but 
in vain. It was a dark night; not a star was 
to be seen in the heavens, and one scarcely 
knew friend from foe. 

[118] 



The Treasure Hunt 



The morning dawned, and then it was seen 
that but a handful of the original garrison 
remained alive. The foe had fared scarcely 
better. 

At noon the fighting was discontinued; but 
not until the leader, who had stolen into the 
fortress, was numbered with the slain. Serveus 
was found more dead than alive, while Veni- 
turi's escape was thought miraculous. 

The shock had been too much for the aged 
Roman matron, and, before the son was aware 
of his mother's enfeebled condition, she had 
sent for him. 

In the half hour which elapsed before the 
flickering light of life finally passed out, she 
told her son two important secrets, always left 
to the guardianship of the eldest of the Veni- 
turii. One referred to a large hidden treasure ; 
the other to the efforts of dif^ferent dynasties, 
not only to find out where this treasure was 
secreted, but explained how much they really 
know about it and their persistent efforts to 
obtain it. 

She said, that these dynasties feared to 
destroy the head of the house, knowing that in 
so doing they forfeited their only opportunity 
to gain its possession. This search, she told 
him, had been carried on for centuries; and, 
as the secret of its hiding place lay with the 



I 



SiGNOR 

Veniturii, so was another secret held closely by 
those who were seeking to gain the treasure: 
one of which, if once divulged, would bring 
ruin and havoc to every noble Roman family. 

Her son asked how to protect this secret in 
case he should be suddenly stricken in battle. 

She replied: ''More than one such instance 
has occurred and always there has come to the 
possessor of this secret the opportunity to pass 
it on, through a reliable channel." 

An ashen hue lay over the face of the 
mother, her eyes looked beseechingly at her 
son, and, as if some one had bade him take the 
Veniturii oath of fidelity, he swore, by the 
ancient past and by all that was sacred in the 
present, to be as faithful to his trust as she had 
been to hers. 

The weary eyes closed and a smile illumined 
the face, followed by a low sigh or intake of 
breath. Her son knew, that what had been 
imparted to him was not only of vital import- 
ance to himself but to his son, Serveus. 

As the light went out in her eyes, the won- 
drous power, which had been given me 
through vision and by vibration from the 
Inner Voice, left me, and I found mys>elf 
awakened to the every day world. The desire 
for sleep, for healthful, natural sleep came to 
me. 

[120] 



The Treasure Hunt 

How many hours I slept, how many hours 
my senses were locked in oblivion, it is impos- 
sible for me to tell. 

At first, a feeling of oppression held me, as 
I awoke; then, as I quickened once again to 
the vibration of the Inner Voice, — to the vision 
that was passing before me, I experienced a 
lightness of heart, such as had not been mine 
since, for the first time, I found myself in the 
square before the palace of the Veniturii. 

Music assailed my ear, — joyous music. Up, 
up I was borne, through diaphanous clouds of 
roseate hue; and my whole being expanded as 
I felt the strong vibration of my soul nature in 
harmonious rapport with the ethereal voices 
about me. 

On gossamer wings of indescribable tints, I 
felt that, reaching out for the intangible, 
which seemed just beyond my grasp. Instinc- 
tively I felt the hidden forces of Nature, the 
throb and beat of every living thing on each 
plane of existence; and something seemed to 
tell me: ^'One more bond that shackles thee to 
material things is about to be severed!" And 
then, the realization of the promise given came 
to me with such force, such vigor, and such 
unspeakable intensity, that fear assailed me, — 
assailed me but for the fraction of a second; 
for I heard, as if from a great distance, the 

[121] 



SiGNOR 

voice of the stranger cry out: ^'Courage! 
Courage!" and as the word reached me, fear 
fled and the ''peace which passeth all under- 
standing" entered into me. 

From the moment that I heard the voice cry 
out "Courage!" I know that a wonderful 
secret had been imparted to me, and that, in 
the future, all visions, all that was dependent 
on hearing, would make the vibration of the 
Inner Voice more inter-penetrating. 

Soon I had irrefragable proof, for without 
real consciousness of my call upon Universal 
Memory, I saw a finger pointing downward 
from the heavens above. From the end of this 
finger radiated a light, brilliant, effulgent, 
which seemed to say: 

"Look! but remember, the secret will no 
longer belong to the Veniturii, but to thee! 
This secret will prove to be the ordeal of fire 
which at some future period will stand 
between thee and thy duty to another!" 

I looked and saw the great treasure ; saw its 
hiding place; then, once again, heard the 
voice say: 

"As thou dealest with this trust imparted to 
thee this day, so will it be with thee when this 
incarnation is ended; so will it be with a 
friend; for thou hast not only taken this trust 

[122] 



The Treasure Hunt 

upon thyself for thyself, but for another, and 
still another!" 

Great stars shot through space. I was borne 
downward, past worlds larger than the one 
where my material home is; saw strange 
objects, that I could not explain; heard music 
that made me faint with ecstasy; floated in 
irridescent colors, until I found myself in my 
own room at home. 

I told of this experience, in all but two par- 
ticulars — to a friend, and he, like myself, felt 
the importance of keeping the secret entrusted 
to me. He asked not what the treasure was, 
nor where the finger pointed. I feel that both 
will be seen by us when this incarnation is 
over. 

Whither I turned, in hopes of seeing the 
family of the Veniturii, the finger pointed the 
way. 

Miles and miles away from the old stone 
fortress, through vision, I was shown the 
father, son, and the faithful henchman, 
Arnich. Their faces were turned from Rome. 
I saw them embark on a large ship, and with 
them, five hundred retainers, who had been 
watching for their arrival. Out on the broad 
Tiber they sailed. 



[123] 



SiGNOR 



Three hearts, at least, waited with sorrow. 
The finger pointed to the square and the 
ancient palace. 

In her own private withdrawing room, I 
saw the mother of Serveus with Erweeda and 
Madella, each plying her needle in a large 
tapestry fastened into a frame. As they placed 
the stitches, which ultimately would tell of the 
heroic deeds of the Veniturii, they spoke of the 
loved ones who were sailing away to some 
unknown port. 

Er^veeda strove to hide her anxiety about 
her brother and his friend, who had recently 
taken to wife a beautiful maiden from a noble 
Roman family. From that moment, that 
Erdesto had decided to go up into the hills 
with his friend and his friend's bride, she had 
experienced a strange misgiving as of coming 
evil. She had spoken of this to her brother, 
who had laughingly chided her; but Erweeda, 
from the very first of her brother's going to 
Court, had distrusted, not only the attentions 
paid him, but the seeming influence which one 
of the royal family held over him. Any sud- 
den sound, any clang of arms, would make her 
start as though evil was right at hand. 

This morning, as I saw them plying their 
needles, the pallor in her aunt's face, as well 

[124] 



The Treasure Hunt 

as in her own, and the dark violet lines beneath 
the eyes, added at least ten years to the age of 
each. 

The sun had been shining brightly when I 
first, in vision, saw them; but now a black 
cloud made the room almost dark. The wind 
held an ominous sound, and fear spoke in the 
faces of the three. 

''Aunt! Aunt!" cried Madella. 'What is 
it? Why does the wind whistle so loudly!" 

"I cannot tell, my child. All the morning 
I have felt depressed; felt as though an added 
evil were to befall us. Doubtless much of it is 
fancy. Women too oft live in what may occur, 
instead of putting their trust in an over-ruling 
Power. It is growing so dark that we will 
desist from our work on the tapestry, and 
strive to remember, that, when we permit fear 
to take the upper hand, we are permitting dis- 
trust to gain an ascendency. Once, when I was 
a child, I was told that whatsoever I sought 
with my whole heart would be mine ; and that 
the rule works both ways; for, if I sought 
good, and sought it earnestly, not holding in 
thought aught but what is good, happiness 
would surround me; but, if I feared, the very 
compelling force of my thought would bring 
to me in ten-fold measure that which I feared. 
Through an eventful life, I have watched 

[125] 



SiGNOR 



closely, and, as yet, have never found, in a 
single instance, this statement to be untrue. 

''Have you ever heard the story that the 
peasantry tell of the palace not far from the 
Triumphal Arch, built six centuries ago? In 
this palace a descendant of the family, a mat- 
ron of great beauty and of still greater erudi- 
tion was found murdered, a stiletto in her 
heart as she lay with her babe on her arm — he, 
from whom your father, Erweeda, came in 
straight line of descent. 

''The infant's nurse, entering the room to 
take the babe, saw her, it was thought, as the 
silvery sheen of moonlight brought out every 
detail, almost immediately after the dastardly 
deed had been perpetrated. It was also 
thought that the nurse must have sent home 
the stiletto; but it was afterward undeniably 
proven that this could not have been. Great 
search was made, but the crime was so thor- 
oughly hidden, that only within a year have 
proofs been unearthed in the shape of a letter, 
signed by the man's hand who did the deed— 
a man high in rank, but never suspected. 

"The peasants affirm, as well as many mem- 
bers of the Veniturii, that, when the moon is 
at its full, a cry is heard from this chamber, — 
one piercing shriek of mortal agony. 

[126] 



The Treasure Hunt 

"Last night was the anniversary, — the night 
on which, it is said, through all these centuries, 
this cry has been heard. Something awoke me 
from a sound sleep ; my room was so filled with 
moonlight, that I could see every trinket, — 
every jewel exposed in the caskets, which you 
remember repose on the oblong table, standing 
in the recess near the long mirror. Why my 
eyes were attracted in that direction, I do not 
know; but one thing is certain: I am not 
deceived in what I saw. 

"Standing before this polished plate of steel, 
was a queenly figure of a woman; her hair, 
like burnished gold, hung down to the hem of 
her white velvet robe of ancient date ; a curious 
smile played around her lips, a ravishing smile 
that held something sinister in it. Her heavy 
eyelids were slightly drooped, yet I could see 
that she was gazing intently at something in 
my inlaid ivory casket. I raised myself to my 
elbow; and I, too, saw what she was seeing. 
If you remember, the casket is lined with 
crimson velvet, the center of this lining is 
formed into a heart. Standing erect in the 
very center of this heart was a stiletto with an 
antique jeweled handle. 

"The fright that it gave me was so great that 
I gave forth piercing screams of fear, and shut 
out the hideous sight with the draperies of my 

[127] 



SiGNOR 

bed; and, as I lay there, I heard a quick, light 
step, as well as the swish of silken skirts. My 
breath grew shorter and shorter; my lips 
became rigid; and icy currents ran through 
every part of my body. I knew, as if I could 
see it, the stiletto in her hand. I strove to cry 
out, — to move, but in vain! 

"At last the whisper came: Tear not! Last 
night I had my revenge ! As the heart of your 
nephew was about to be pierced by the assassin, 
I cried out: ''Desist!" and the woman, who 
was on the point of thrusting a stiletto into 
his heart, fled. Neither she, nor he saw me — 
a disembodied spirit. Your nephew sprang 
from the couch, wide awake ; and, as if guided 
to take the right direction, with fleet foot, 
turned to the right, out of the range of my 
vision, but not of my hearing. A w^oman's cry 
broke the stillness, followed by a muttered 
curse. Then, as my recalling summons had 
sounded twice, I hastened back to the haunted 
chamber, feeling that I would soon be released 
from the bond that held me, — free again to 
incarnate and finish the atonement for the sin 
committed. Tonight, no longer held in that 
frightful room, I came to warn you of your 
nephew's enemy, and the enemy of your house. 
She is young and beautiful, — the daughter — 
centuries removed — of the man who murdered 

[128] 



The Treasure Hunt 

me. She has betrayed more than one man, — 
has lured them to perdition ; then, when tired 
of their attentions, has put the fatal seal upon 
their hearts. Every hour he remains at the 
palace, where he is now stopping, may prove 
fatal to him. Knowing that he comes here 
every morning to see his sister, if he is not here 
at the usual hour, see to it, on one pretext or 
another, no matter if the basis of that pretext 
is a lie, that his presence is demanded, not as 
though you fear aught, but as one in great 
stress — one who needs advice. If he comes 
not, after this step hath been taken, I will see 
what can be done to succor him. Farewell!' 

"It is now ten minutes past his usual hour; I 
thought to spare thee, Erweeda; but now feel 
it the greater kindness to tell thee ; for, if he is 
not here in ten minutes more, we must be ready 
to act!" 

As her aunt stopped speaking, steps were 
heard in the stone passage-way, which they 
knew to be Erdesto's. Each face expressed 
surprise, joy; and Enveeda, running across the 
great room, cried out: 

"O, Erdesto! Thou art safe! Thou are 
safe!" 

"Safe from what, Erweeda?" 
Her reply was a flood of tears. His aunt 
repeated the story she had just told Erweeda 

[129] 



SiGNOR 

and Madella, watching her nephew's face 
keenly as she did so. Astonishment was writ 
large upon it; then, when his aunt had ceased 
speaking, he said: 

"Thou must have been dreaming!" 

"No Erdesto, it was no dream. I would 
not ask thee for thy confidence; for thou art 
no longer a boy, but a man; but the one thing 
I would ask of thee is that thou wilt not return 
to the palace!" 

"Not return! But why, pray?" 

"O, Erdesto ! Canst thou not see that, if this 
was a dream, it also was a warning? What 
would life be without thee! Promise me, — 
promise me, that thou wilt not return!" 

"Dearly, Erweeda, as I long to give thee 
that promise, to do so is impossible ; for I came 
here this morning, swearing upon my honor to 
return at mid-day. Thou wouldst not have thy 
brother falsify his word!" 

"But why did thev demand such a promise 
of thee?" 

"Were I to tell thee, as my heart prompts 
me to do, that which I do not keep from thee, 
neither from fear nor from shame, I would not 
falsify my honor, but besmirch the fair name 
of a woman as young as thou art. Trust me, 
Erweeda, and tomorrow, when I am to leave 

[130] 



The Treasure Hunt 

the palace for good, and providing Aunt will 
consent to keep me for a spell, I will be with 
thee, and we can all laugh over these strange 
happenings, which have startled our aunt, and 
disturbed thy peace of mind. I am to be here 
but a short time, and I have good news to 
relate: the good ship, Rommeo, has reached its 
haven, making a quicker voyage than was 
expected. All are well, and send fond greet- 
ings to you all. My uncle sends back word, 
through Serveus' hand, that his stay will be 
shorter than planned. But of this not a word! 
Even walls have ears. He sends this message: 
that on no account is Sandrine to be released 
from the black dungeon, or to hold converse 
with any one but the mute. He is to be sup- 
plied with nourishing food and a watch, night 
and day, kept to prevent his sending any mes- 
sage outside. But there goes the bell! I must 
haste or fail in my promise. Cheer up! and 
expect me before midday tomorrow." 

Across the square they watched the flying 
feet of his horse ; saw him bow, right and left, 
to friends in passing, and, when they could no 
longer see him, the three — women-like — 
relieved their pent up feelings in tears. 

Erweeda and Madella, under the super- 
vision of their aunt, and by the aid of four 

[131] 



SiGNOR 



Strong maids, put into perfect order the suite 
of rooms, known as 'The Phr^^gian Cham- 
bers." 

Many a stranger had visited this palace for 
no other purpose than to see the rare and 
priceless mythological tapestry, brought from 
Phrygia, which covered the wall, hung at the 
doors, and about the wondrously carv^ed ivory 
couch, upon which more than one royal head 
had found sleep. 

The morrow came. Long before noon, they 
saw Erdesto with reckless speed, crossing the 
square, saw men and horses, caparisoned as 
though for battle, hastening after him. 

Madella, who was the first to see him, 
rushed to the ancient guardian of the tower 
and gave the alarm; then, before the bell rang 
out its first peal of warning, she was in the 
court-yard, arousing the men-at-arms; at the 
great gate, giving orders for the captain to 
have the chains drawn so as to admit at once 
her cousin. 

Louder and louder the bell rang out the 
alarm ; faster and faster came on Erdesto. The 
gate flew open. Erdesto's horse stumbled, and 
he, who had ridden so gallantly, was tossed 
over the great stallion's head. 

Over the horse and rider rode the foe, 
reached the open gate, poured, like a living 

[132] 



The Treasure Hunt 

stream, into the court-yard, — into the palace 
itself, and, before any of its inmates could 
make their escape, this ruthless enemy was 
upon them. The three — aunt and two nieces, 
— locked in each other's embrace, fell beneath 
the sharp edge of the enemy's axe. 

In the midst of this pandemonium, while 
the gate was yet open, there passed through a 
litter. The form stretched upon it was that of 
one who had been the bravest of the brave. 
Beside the litter walked Serveus, holding his 
dead father's hand. 

Arnich was killed as he strove to save his 
young lord. Faithful to the last, he fell at his 
feet. No one knew whose was the hand that 
killed Serveus, who was found the next day 
beneath a heap of dead bodies. 

* * * 

This fragment of a letter was shown me 
forty-eight hours after the above incarnation 
was written : 

^'To thee, most beautiful, most treacherous 
of women: Two years thou hast been to me 
the height and depth of my desire. To think, 
poor fool that I am, that I did put such im- 
plicit faith in thee! Thy smile shall never 
more beguile a man to his ruin! Thy kisses, 
thy endearments, make him blind to honor, — 

[133] 



SiGNOR 

to loyalty to a friend who trusts him! Thou 
didst swear to me by all thou heldst sacred — as I 
thought — that thy husband w^as but so in name. 
Even with thine infant beside thee, thou didst 
swear it was our child — thine and mine! The 
very thought makes me miad, — ready to do any 
foul deed to be avenged on thee! This is my 
last night on earth ; it shall also be thine. The 
babe shall live, but my stiletto shall find thy 
heart. Weak driveler that I am, with thy 
warm lips pressed to mine, thy honeyed lies 
fresh in my ears; yet — my curse, also the point 
of my stiletto shall on every anniversary of this 
night make thee cry out in mortal agony, as it 
will tonight when the steel pierces thy heart! 

"This letter shall be found under thy pillow 
w^hen thou canst no longer deny it." 

Miguel. 

* * * 

The Inner Voice says to me: 

"Were life to come to an end at each 
change in the wheel then would man 
lose the greatest incentive of all for 
GROWTH. He would look about him and 

SEE THE SO-CALLED SINNER PROSPER; THE MAN 
WHOSE EVERY EFFORT IS TO DO THAT WHICH, 
IN HIS JUDGMENT, IS RIGHT, MEET WITH SUF- 
FERING AND ADVERSITY. 
[134] 



The Treasure Hunt 

''Life is eternal : made up of cycles; and, 
as man ascends within his inner self, he 
sees the lesson he has learned or the mis- 
STEPS TAKEN. He has the God-given power 

TO QUICKEN FROM ONE STATE TO ANOTHER THE 
VIBRATIONS, WHICH ARE THE EXPRESSIONS 

OF LIFE. These vibrations, eventually, 
through varied experiences, in different 
incarnations, form stepping stones to 
perfect fruition. 

''Unity is God. Man is God's highest 
IDEAL. In the study of man from this 

STANDPOINT, THE GOOD RISES SO INCOMPARABLY 
SUPERIOR TO THE CONCEPTION OF EVIL, THAT 
THE UNIVERSE MUST MANIFEST THE PRECEPTS 

OF THE Golden Rule.'' 



[135] 



CHAPTER VII 



THE TWO FRAGMENTS 



"No mortal yet has measured his full force. 
It is a river rising in God's thought 
And emptying in the soul of man. Go back, 
Back to the Source, and find divinity. 
Forget the narrow borders and ignore 
The rocks and chasms which obstruct the way. 
Remember the beginning. Man may be 
And do the thing he wishes, if he keeps 
That one thought dominant through night and day. 
And knows his strength is limitless, because 
Its Fountainhead is God. That mighty stream 
Shall bear upon its breast, like golden fleets, 
His hopes, his efforts and his purposes, 
To anchor in the harbor of Success." 



— Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



Hermes 

Adone 

johanessa 

Clion 

Hermes^ Son, Aros 

Afreeda 

Clione 

Rhudesa 



Parcedia 



Sinesia 



Father Madio 



. Eseraldo 
Vivikanda 
, . .Valeeta 



The Widow 
. Terzerhena 



[136] 



THE TWO FRAGMENTS 



WO fragments of this incarnation have 



come to me at different periods. This 



evening they present themselves in a 
curious manner; it is the second fragment 
which comes first to me, both by seeing, hear- 
ing, and also by the Inner Voice. 

This fragment points to a certain epoch, 
when, in the advancement of education, the 
writing out of history marked great progress 
in the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus. 

The vision brings Alexandria to me. The 
sound of two men's voices, one a Hindu, the 
other a Greek, fall upon my ear, as if in dis- 
cussion of weighty questions relating to the 
soul. 

The vibration of the Inner Voice quickens 
my inner sense of hearing, and the voices of the 
two men grow more and more distinct. 

The Hindu, dark, swarthy; eyes, keen and 
brilliant; face, quickened, as it were, by an 
inner illumination, is saying in a quiet, placid 
tone: ''He who strives for immortality must 
heed well to keep his feet always on the Path ; 




[137] 



SiGNOR 

his whole nature receptive to the small voice 
which bids him be pure from sin," 

His friend, Parcedia, tall, slight, and wiry, 
rapid of speech, eyes, face, hands and arms 
alive to every word that he is saying, replies 
by asking this question: "What is sin? You, 
who are trained from early childhood to look, 
to feel, and to follow the example of those, 
who, from remote ages, held through silent 
meditation and silent contemplation, through 
Krishna, and through that whicfi you have 
learned from ancient wisdom, naturally see 
sin where I, as a Greek, see only pleasure!" 

In vision, I see a younger man, at least ten 
years the junior of Parcedia, who joins the two 
friends; and, as the vision becomes clearer, I 
recognize in him that which makes me know 
that he is the brother of Parcedia. 

This newcomer is also tall and slight, but 
there is an expression in his eyes as of one who 
is living in a land of dreams, or is passing 
through a great change, in which the soul is 
expressing that which has been acquired in 
previous incarnations, making it possible for 
the traces of its growth to leave on this present 
incarnation the seal, not only of intellect and 
reason, but, more than that, of high spiritual 
endowment. 

[138] 



The Two Fragments 

''How is it, Sinesia, I thought you due at the 
Temple?" 

''I am on my way there now, Parcedia; but, 
having an hour to spare, and, seeing you and 
our friend here earnestly discussing the old 
question of sin, I thought to tarry, trusting 
that by so doing to learn one thing, which is 
this: I am told, in one land, that, if a man 
does thus and so, he commits a sin; in another 
land, this same deed is looked upon almost as 
a virtue. We all know, if we will but listen to 
the mentor within, that certain things which 
a man doeth cannot be spoken of in any way 
but as sin. We also know, that we often come 
face to face with some turning point in our life 
journey, when the question presents itself : 'Is 
this good, or is it evil? Is it right, or is it 
wrong?' To the man who has not been taught 
to know himself, in the truest sense, whose sur- 
roundings have been of a nature to lead him 
on the broad road of pleasure, who, through 
ignorance, or natural tendencies, thinks only 
of self, who sees no duty that he owes to his 
brother man, does that man have to pay to the 
utmost farthing for what he has not known to 
be sin? Can no atonement bring him out of 
the darkness into the light Is he held account- 
able the same as you, Vivikanda, or as I, 

[139] 



SiGNOR 

Sincsia, who, from my earliest remembrance, 
cannot remember a real temptation which 
might lead me to sin, — I, who, before I was 
twelve years of age, was entered by you, 
Vivikanda, into the great Temple, and through 
its secret labyrinths, thus far, have stood the 
tests which every novice has to pass?" 

^'My young brother in Truth, Life has kissed 
you on both cheeks; within you is the promise 
of high achievements. At your birth, the stars 
foretold what has already happened, and their 
prophecy for the future cannot fail. This 
would not have been, had not previous incar- 
nations so worked out the Karma, where error 
laid its blighting touch, that, through the dif- 
ferent cycles of the past, you have reached out 
to the attainable, and today the soul within you 
has not only blossomed into a tree, of which 
every branch and twig speaks of beauteous 
symmetry; but, in its upward progress, this 
soul of thine hath heard celestial singing, hath 
quenched its thirst at the well-spring of Living 
Waters, and is standing at such a high altitude, 
that it sees every step of the way, which it has 
yet to ascend, fragrant with the perfume, the 
sweetness of harmony. The man, who knows 
not sin, and, therefore, knows not how to rise 
above it, will yet have to learn, that for every 
transgression a recompense will be required of 

[140] 



The Two Fragments 

him. He is either a man, who has known what 
sin is in the past and who has chosen self- 
indulgence in preference to life eternal, or he 
is the product, in this incarnation, of an Astral, 
who, having passed on to the astral plane, in 
sin, and, while there feeling his attraction to 
and his longing for the physical to be so much 
greater than for the spiritual, once more be- 
came a denizen of earth." 

"But what became of the soul, — that indi- 
visible quantity, the ^I,' the individual?" 

"Well may you ask, Parcedia. This indi- 
visible substance lingers, hoping that this man 
you have cited, Sinesia, will, through remorse, 
through physical suffering, cry out for help in 
his despair. At that moment, he will be recep- 
tive to the influence of the soul, which is not 
permitted to thrust itself unsought; for man is 
a free agent and cannot be compelled by his 
own soul, but can receive immeasurable help 
from this source — which is the divine of him- 
self — if he but seeks in the spirit of contrition 
his soul's ministration. 

"But, Sinesia, you have scant time to reach 
the Temple ! I appreciate the motive you have 
in asking this question, and will say, that the 
man who knows what sin is and pursues the 
will-o'-the-wisp, seductive pleasures, will find 
the way longer, — the road stony to his feet; for 

[141] 



SiGXOR 



a man must pray for himself, must look him- 
self squarely in the face, must recognize the 
truth and practice it, if he wishes to escape, — 
not from eternal condemnation, nor annihila- 
tion, — but from many things which his own 
good sense should reveal as clearly to him as 
his sight would the sun at noonday !" 

* * * 

This vision is susperseded by another frag- 
ment. 

This time I see, entering a modest villa in 
the outskirts of Alexandria, a maiden of about 
sixteen summers. Her eyes are as blue as the 
waters of the Mediterranean; her form deli- 
cate, yet well rounded. Feet and hands show 
patrician birth. The face is mobile and of a 
creamy white, except where the deep tint of 
the lips, and the warm blood that flows beneath 
the surface of the cheeks, add to her beaut}^ and 
indicate health. The nose is purely Grecian in 
outline. Her hair, luxuriant, lies in soft rings 
about her forehead and in deep waves around 
her shapely head. 

One can see by her eyes, that she has a pleas- 
ure-loving nature; yet at times these eyes hold 
unf athomed wells of serious thought. 

Her mother, — still a young woman, — em- 

[142] 



The Two Fragments 

braces her as she crosses the threshold, and 
chidingly asks, "Why so late, Valeeta?" 

''Upon my way, I met Sinesia. Do you 
know that he would have passed me by with- 
out a word! What is he constantly thinking 
of? He looked right at me, and, when I 
touched his arm, he actually jumped. He did 
not even apologize, but said : 'O, is that you?' 
He is not half so nice as Parcedia in his man- 
ners ! After leaving Sinesia, I met his brother. 
He told me about so many things, — the lovely 
things to be seen at the museum. I told him 
that any one would take that Hindu friend of 
his to be an Ethiopian, were it not for his tur- 
ban and gown. I really believe the two broth- 
ers like this man better than any one of their 
Greek friends. But, here I am chattering 
while I ought to be dressing. I think I forgot 
to say that both of the brothers are coming 
here late this afternoon to hear Terzerhena 
sing. I told them about what a wonderful 
voice she has. Give me a kiss ; for I must go 
at once or they will be here." 

The matron's guests began to arrive: Par- 
cedia and Sinesia among the first. They 
always felt at home in this charming villa ; for 
the matron's entertainments were not of the 
light and frivolous order as were many of her 
compatriots. 

[143] 



SiGNOR 



Philosophers, men of science, of art, mystics, 
those versed in ancient lore, as well as in music, 
made the brothers seek this home of comfort 
and refinement more frequently than the 
palatial mansions where luxury was more 
apparent. Even Ptolemy Philadelphus once 
was entertained by the vivacious matron, and 
this of itself gave a distinction, not only to the 
villa, but to the widow and her lovely 
daughter. 

The brothers listened attentively to a low 
conversation, referring to cycles and also to 
man's aura; for even Parcedia firmly believed 
that a man's aura gave out strong indications 
of his physical and spiritual well-being. 

Parcedia listened closely, as a man of science 
expressed his views upon the wonderful dis- 
coveries in the realm of nature, while Sinecia's 
mind was absorbed in the description of Per- 
sian rites, special beliefs and philoj^ophy; and 
he thought that every people, if they but seek, 
must learn the Path; and, having found it, if 
they but walk in it with pure thoughts, with 
perfect confidence, with that trust which is 
expected of them, how great would be the 
number of workers in the vineyard of Truth. 

Soft and low, like a tremulous note of 
appeal from a love bird to the one he desires 
for his mate, came the voice of the great singer. 



The Two Fragments 

Then answering notes, uncertain at first, fol- 
lowed by a tender tone of defiance, broken 
into by a swift rush of song from him who 
desires ardently, and will not be denied. In the 
midst is heard a sound like rippling water and 
the soughing of the wind, gently moving the 
branches and rustling the leaves in the forest. 
The voice of the singer, rising higher and still 
higher, sweet with melodious cadence, pauses, 
— then drops into a minor key; and one feels 
in the inmost heart, the sorrows of the world 
appealing to one. 

The minor changes to a clear major chord, 
vibrant with the joy of living, as though striv- 
ing to lift one to the knowledge that rejoicing 
and praising should be man's thought. As this 
motif grows more and more reassuring, the 
singer's voice drops lower and lower, still 
brimming over with cheerfulness, till — with a 
note of gaiety, of joyousness, it rises in a rapid 
crescendo, the last note of which is held for a 
brief instant, then ripples into a sound akin to 
merry laughter. 

The voice is lost in the ready applause, — in 
the murmur of those who have been carried 
out of themselves by the sweetness, the power 
and the matchless technique of the singer. 

Vivikanda was challenged by a young 
philosopher from the Court, as the Hindu put 

[145] 



SiGNOR 

forth the statement, that color held a wonder- 
ful influence, especially, when musical tones 
and those of the sea and the forest brought out 
harmony of sound and color. Its effects upon 
the nature of man, also of animals, had been 
taught in his land ages ago. 

''But Vivikanda, if it has the power to create 
harmony, how explain the effects of certain 
colors upon man's nature? Look at the action 
of red, which excites to fury the bull ; the com- 
bination of green and orange upon a nervously 
organized woman! I could cite many other 
cases, — even those where music of a certain 
order produces a similar effect." 

A slow smile lighted the Hindu's eyes as he 
replied: 

''My reference to color was to the outgrowth 
of the harmonious sounds we have just listened 
to. I agree with you, Eseraldo; music of a 
certain order stimulates men in battle till they 
see nothing but blood. It stirs their nature till 
the desire grows within them to kill — kill — 
kill ! The sea, when the billows run mountain 
high, lashed into fury by the gale, not only 
excites fear, but in its ominous sounds, predicts 
disaster. The great trees of the forest, with 
their long, outspreading branches, lashed to 
and fro by a cyclone or tornado, lift their 
voices in threats which no man can hear with- 

[146] 



The Two Fragments 

out striving to seek shelter; for they hear the 
boom-boom, of broken boughs, of trees up- 
rooted, which promises destruction. 

''Red, of a certain shade, not only excites 
man's lower nature, but is seen in the aura of a 
man with depraved habits; and, thus, is like a 
finger print to anyone who has eyes attuned to 
see. Certain shades of yellow and green, not 
only act upon nervous women, creating in some 
jealousy, in others depression, but it has been 
known to so act upon the mental nature of man 
as to induce him to shorten his mortal career. 
The efifect of red upon the bull and other ani- 
mals is well-known. But, if certain colors 
excite, others are almost magical in giving 
cheer, in creating health, in quickening the 
spiritual nature of man ; and no man exists who 
does not radiate color in one shade or another; 
but, the more receptive he is — both spiritually 
and physically to thought waves attuned to 
high vibrations, — the more beautiful and 
varied are the tints, the more harmonious the 
effect." 

"I have observed," said Sinesia, "the cold 
greenish gray of the sea with the gray sky over- 
head has upon me the effect of minor chords in 
music; and, when the sea is lashed into fury, it 
takes on a slate color which awakens within 
me: first, a sensation of tension; then, as the 

[147] 



SiGNOR 

gale increases and the great waves — spume- 
crested — roll on to the beach, I feel as though 
Father Neptune was calling me, and there are 
times when I experience a great desire to try 
my personal strength against the storm-tossed 
sea. This feeling has, at times, been so strong, 
that I have had to reason w^ith myself to real- 
ize, that even this brief span of existence was 
not mine to wantonly throw aside ; for man not 
only owes it to the personal equation, but to 
his soul, and, through the right understanding 
of his divine nature, to that which he is as a 
part of the Eternal Being, to consider well all 
things." 

^ ^ ^ 

Once again the vision and the hearing pass 
from me, — still I feel the Inner Voice urging 
me, as it were, to follow the two brothers and 
their friend, Vivikanda, from the villa; and, as 
I do so, I see them meet with a man with snow- 
white locks, eyes keen and black as in youth, 
slightly bent, though tall in stature. 

There is something about this man, in his 
long, clinging white robe that makes the pass- 
er-by look at him the second time. He greets 
the Hindu with a brief nod, — a smile lights his 
eyes as they fall upon the two brothers. 

To Sinesia he says: 

[148] 



The Two Fragments 

"Thou art making good progress, I am told, 
at the Temple. Thou has not yielded to 
temptation of the senses, nor been lured into 
falsifying, even by a glance of the eye, the 
Truth? I shall be present, three weeks from 
now, when thou dost pass the last trial. Re- 
member, and hold fast to the inner conviction, 
which thou wilt feel when the test comes, 
which so often destroys the chance for the 
novice to take his stand, sooner or later, as a 
Master. A voice told me, when at my orisons 
this morning, that I should see thee before the 
day was out, and I met thee here. Thus the 
opportunity has been given me to say what I 
have said." 

Sinesia's eyes expressed his deep thanks, 
while his voice, tremulous with emotion, said: 

"It is most kind of you, — I shall not forget 
your advice! Had I not seen you today, I 
should have called, hoping to find you in. I 
have striven to follow your instructions in the 
past, and appreciate your kindly interest in 
me, more deeply than I can say." 

"Father Madio, the work that you have 
accomplished is spoken of in the highest terms : 
both as to the judicious manner in which you 
have reached the ear of the good Philadelphus, 
and in regard to the wise suggestions that you 

[149] 



SiGNOR 



have made him. All Alexandria, if they but 
knew it, have in you a public benefactor." 

The old man waved his hand in denial of 
such praise, as he replied to Vivikanda: 

''One does but one's duty, if one walks the 
path which leads away from_ temptation; and 
he, who lives not for himself but for the better- 
ment of the race, must ever seek to send forth 
thoughts freighted with Truth." 

* * * 

A blur comes before my sight; time seems to 
intervene. And now, as the vision grows 
clearer, I see Parcedia in conversation with 
the hostess of the villa, — striving in his most 
persuasive tone to present his love, while he 
sues for her hand in marriage. Among other 
things, he says : 

'Tt lies in your power to help me to become, 
in a great measure, what Vivikanda is ever 
urging me to be; not that my life of pleasure 
has ever led me to become a slave to my sense 
nature; only in those pleasures which man 
seeks, that he may while away the time when 
not otherwise employed. I know you hesitate 
about leaving this lovely home; still I have 
two that I can offer, — a mansion, with every 
appointment that heart could wish, not far 
from the center of Alexandria, while the other, 

[150] 



The Two Fragments 

my summer residence, you and Valeeta have 
visited; therefore, it is unnecessary for me to 
dwell upon its situation. Of the two, I prefer 
the one from which I can look forth upon the 
water, where I can sit beneath the trees of my 
garden, and where I can entertain my friends, 
who, too often, have but little opportunity to 
get away from the life of the city. But it shall 
be as you desire, if you will but give your con- 
sent." 

^'You have forgotten that I have a child, 
just budding into womanhood. My first duty 
is to her." 

"But why let her stand in the way of our 
happiness, when together we can make her 
the more happy?" 

When Parcedia left the villa, it was with a 
conditional promise, that, if Valeeta thought 
she could be as happy were her mother to 
marry, the widow would give the answer to 
Parcedia he desired. 

A week later, Parcedia received a little note 
from the widow, and, when he called, it was 
decided that before another month had passed, 
they would be united. 

* * * 

It is a merry party which comes before me; 
for it is the bridal day of Parcedia. 

[151] 



SiGNOR 

Two days before the marriage, Sinesia 
passed the last test of his novitiate. 

As he stood at the door which seemed to 
terminate the secret labyrinth through which 
he had passed, there came back to him the 
words of Father Madio, and with them, the 
natural question as to what it could be, this test 
of spiritual unfoldment, which had made his 
kind friend deem it of such moment as to give 
him the warning to act upon his inner convic- 
tion. 

Thus far his meditations had carried him, 
when the door opened slowly, and he found 
himself face to face with a majestic figure, 
behind whom a lambent flame, steady and 
clear, ascended without a flicker or movement, 
except to impress one that it was the embodi- 
ment of Life. 

Then, as he knelt before the great cube of 
crystal, which in the light of this flame 
reflected the tints of the diamond, a certain awe 
entered Sinesia, — a feeling as though all the 
circulation of his blood had ceased, and grad- 
ually he felt as though something was closing 
in more and more upon him — something un- 
seen and yet so visibly experienced, that, had 
not Father Madio's warning prepared him, in 
a measure fear might have entered. 

[152] 



The Two Fragments 



Instead, a great and holy peace pervaded 
him ; and when a voice, clear, sweet, and low, 
bade him do certain things, although the 
ordeal was of fire, yet he felt no trepidation; 
but, with a silent prayer of thanksgiving, upon 
his lips, he followed the directions to the letter, 
and heard, shortly, another voice, more 
vibrant, more commanding, say: 

''It is well done!" 

Then came other directions in the same 
voice, which sounded almost like a trumpet 
call; and, with the inner conviction, that all 
would be well with him, he prostrated himself 
before this matchless cube and relinquished in 
thought his personality for a time, that the soul 
might take up the pilgrimage. 

As he felt that I of himself, the soul, expand- 
ing, floating, as it were, in space, again in his 
heart came the prayer of thanksgiving, and 
fear of every nature seemed to be thrust out. 

Also, there came to him sights and sounds, 
differing in kind, yet all seeming to be a part 
of his experience in realms spiritual; yet ever 
before him, the steady flame beckoned, leading 
him on and on, until in every motion, love 
seemed to fill every part. 

Then, gradually, he sank lower and still 
lower; and, when he awoke to his personal 
consciousness, he was no longer prostrate be- 



SiGNOR 

fore the cube, but standing erect, and around 
was the semi-circle of faces, all unknown to 
him, excepting that of Father Madio. 

When Sinesia left the temple in the early 
morning of the following day, it was with a 
step which scarcely seemed to touch the earth, 
so buoyant, so uplifted was his spirit. 

* * * 

The vision is past, but not the hearing of 
sweet strains of music, nor the strong vibra- 
tions from the Inner Voice; and I feel a great 
exhileration, as though I, also, in a measure, 
had experienced some of that peace which had 
come to Sinesia, some of that all-abiding love 
which was his. 

Although I know that which I saw as he 
passed through the test was but a fractional 
part, yet it has left with me the surety, that, 
while we are yet on the physical plane, we are 
not apart from the spiritual. 

The thought comes to me, that, as the human 
system is made up of atoms and molecules, con- 
stant in vibration, neither one molecule touch- 
ing the other; so is the physical with the spir- 
itual universe brought in perceptible accord, 
when by pure living and right understanding 
our souls bring us into unison with the rythm 
of the Spiritual; for Life pervades both 
spheres. 

[154] 



CHAPTER VIII 




"Noble souls, through dust and heat, 
Rise from disaster and defeat 

The stronger. 
And conscious still of the divine 
Within them, lie on earth supine 

No longer." 




TRUE NOBILITY 



— Longfellow. 



Hermes . . . 
johannesa 

Adone 

Sandrine . . 



Hermedites 
. . . Pericles 
Hiero 



Lodetius 
. Ironetis 



Afreeda 
Clione. 

LORETA . 



The Widow 



Aspasia 
. Diana 



LoRETA^s Child. 



TRUE NOBILITY 



THIS afternoon, while waiting to acquire 
that perfect passivit\^ always essential to 
me to gain clear vision and to remove all 
disturbing thoughts which deter me from hear- 
ing, there arises within me a strong uprush in 
response to my call upon the Universal 
Memory. 

Vision, hearing, and highly attuned vibra- 
tions come to me; and, as the picture is pre- 
sented of Athens in the days of her prosperity 
under the rule of Perciles, I hear, at first indis- 
tinctly, then more clearly, the name of Aspasia. 

In answer to my inward questioning, the 
reply comes. 

It is in the palatial mansion of Aspasia that 
Hermedites, acting as scribe and librarian, 
passes most of the hours of day and evening, 
cataloguing and handling with loving touch 
the many volumes and illumined missals, 
which are dearly prized by their owner. 

Hermedites, one day lost in a tome of price- 
less value, his soul quickened by that which he 
had just read, was discovered by one of the 
waiting women of Aspasia, a somew^hat vain 



True Nobility 

and frivolous young woman, noted for her 
remarkable beauty, her power of attracting 
the opposite sex, and her spontaneous gaiety. 

She, seeing his absorption, touched his ear 
with one of her curls. He threw up his hand 
as if to brush away some annoying insect. The 
gesture and the sober expression upon his face 
provoked her to laughter. Up to this time the 
young man had been unconscious of her pres- 
ence. 

Now, springing to his feet, and, in the act 
almost upsetting his inkwell, he asked without 
looking at her: 

"Are my services required?" 

Ironetis, mimicking his tone of voice, 
replied : 

"Certainly ; but not by my fair mistress." 

Hermedites, still turning the leaves, glanc- 
ing here and there unconsciously, said, without 
looking up : 

"Surely the brave Pericles is not here! Had 
he been, I should have heard the usual stir of 
his entrance." 

Ironetis, instead of being offended at his 
seeming dullness of comprehension, laughed 
merrily: 

"No! It is not the brave Pericles, but my 
humble self who requires service from the 
learned Hermedites." 

[157] 



SiGNOR 

It was then that the scribe, with an expres- 
sion of surprise in his mild, gray eyes, asked: 
''And what may be the service you require?" 

The spirit of mischief entered into Ironetis; 
it took possession of her, and, giving free rein 
to her desire to shock him, she said demurely, 
repeating his words : 

"The service I require is a kiss from the gal- 
lant Hermedites." 

Now, Hermedites was not what Ironetis had 
always thought him; for, underneath his sober 
exterior, there ran a vein of humor. As quick- 
ly as it took her to express her wish, the 
thought came to him to comply with it; and, 
before Ironetis had divined his intent, he, 
without change of expression, leaned forward 
and pressed an unmistakable kiss upon her lips. 

"You! You! How dare you!" 

Ironetis was of medium height, graceful and 
symmetrical. Hermedites was tall and slen- 
der, and, as in her assumed indignation, she 
had to look up at him as he stood erect, she 
caught a fleeting smile in his eye. 

"How dare I? Did you not wish it? I 
thought to please you by complying with your 
request." 

"To please! To please me!" and, with an 
angry light in her dark blue eyes, and a toss of 
[158] 



True Nobility 

her dainty head, which set the golden brown 
ringlets in motion, she left the room without 
another word. 

A half hour later Hermedites awoke from a 
deep reverie; then, with a yawn, he resumed 
his work. 

That evening, as he was passing down the 
private stairway which led to a side entrance 
— the one he always used in coming and going 
from his beloved work, — he came face to face 
with Ironetis, who passed him without a word, 
but with a saucy smile playing about her pout- 
ing lips. 

Hermedites also smiled as he went to his 
lodgings. These were so near to the home of 
Socrates that Xantippe's scoldings, made in 
her strident voice, often disturbed him. Noth- 
ing pleased him better, though, than to hear 
Socrates put forth his wise sayings; for he 
often met him at the corners of streets, and 
thought himself fortunate when he could have 
an hour alone with him. 

Hermedites was not of noble birth, but, 
through his own industry and application to 
study, he had risen to a position, much higher 
than his family held in Athens. 

In a debate, which was held at the open 
forum, where Hermedites expressed in a few 
terse words his opinion upon education for the 

[159] 



SiGNOR 

masses, the ways and means, that might be 
employed even among the poorer inhabitants 
of Athens to rise through their own efforts, was 
so clearly put, so convincing in its logic, so 
compelling through the very earnestness of the 
belief in what he was saying, that Pericles, the 
following day, sent for him. 

It was in this way that he had access to the 
choice collection of tomes and missals in the 
home of Aspasia. Here his time was not 
wasted : he gave '^measure for measure" for the 
generous recompense received for service ren- 
dered ; and while doing this stored up useful 
knowledge for the future. 

* * * 

As my vision becomes blurred and my hear- 
ing dulled, I lose for the time being my touch 
with the Universal Memory. 

The Inner Voice says to me : ^'There came 
a time when Hermedites, acting for Pericles as 
confidential secretary, had to do with papers 
of so secret a nature, that his services became 
invaluable. The confidence which the great 
statesman placed in him arose from the faith- 
fulness and method, which, as librarian and 
scribe, Pericles had watched without seeming 
to do so." 



[160] 



True Nobility 

The vision, which now presents itself, is of 
Hermedites as he presses a signet seal upon a 
state paper destined for Sparta. I gather this 
from a low-spoken conversation between Peri- 
cles and Hermedites. 

As the uprush from the Universal Memory 
grows stronger and stronger, and the vibra- 
tions from the Inner Voice impress with the 
weight and responsibility, which through 
Pericles would either make or mar the for- 
tune of Hermedites, I see a clear amethystine 
tint surround him, and gradually become dif- 
fused in a light so radiant, so vibrant, that I 
realize, that the mission he is about to under- 
take will be — for a comparatively short period 
— a blessing to Athens. 

* * * 

As one would see a wet sponge drawn across 
a slate covered with hieroglyphics, the vision 
of the two men in earnest conversation is 
wiped out. 

Almost immediately another picture is 
shown me. This time it is of Hermedites, sit- 
ting with his elbow resting on the table, his 
head upon his hand, lost in deep reflection. 
Slowly, across the mosaic floor, comes Ironetis, 
her pink gossamer robe, worn over white satin, 
floating out behind her, as, with sandaled feet, 

[161] 



SiGNOR 



she steals cautiously to the back of the stool on 
which Hermedites is sitting. 

'Why so pensive, my secretary to the great 
Pericles?" 

Hermedites gives a sudden start, and, turn- 
ing, their cheeks touch each other lightly. A 
soft flush spreads over his usually pale face, 
seeing which, Ironetis laughs and, holding her 
robe aside, the better to display her dainty feet 
and ankles, takes a few graceful steps; then 
asks in a serious manner: 

''Are you to leave us? My mistress has sent 
me to inquire." 

Hermedites feels within himself a warning 
against evil. He detects in the last few words 
an untruth. His conviction is that her motive 
is not honest in wishing to pry into his move- 
ments. 

''I, go away? Yes, Pericles has granted me a 
leave of absence: my mother is ill; it is my 
wish to see her. Both she and my father are 
growing old, and I wish to give them my 
promise to see after a younger brother and a 
still younger sister, when they can no longer 
have a parent's care." 

"Oh ! is that all ! Then my mistress has been 
misinformed; she thought the brave Pericles 
was sending you on a mission of state." 



True Nobility 

Hermedites has drawn a wax tablet toward 
him, and, with a stylus in his hand, says: 

"I must ask you to excuse me; for I have 
some minutes to make from memory, and think 
it safer to put them down at once before I for- 
get them." 

This plain avoidance of her charms, this 
apparent unwillingness to converse and en- 
lighten her as to the conversation with Peri- 
cles, made Ironetis the more determined. At 
this time she had no real affection for Herme- 
dites; on the contrary, she thought she disliked 
him; but the less he seemed pleased with her 
company, the more persistent was she to make 
him love her. 

To do this, she became convinced, that she 
would have to use other means than arts and 
graces, which, with the majority of men, 
brought them to her feet. She did not know 
that Hermedites' parents lived in Athens, and 
that his intention was to see them before start- 
ing on the secret mission for Pericles. 

The following morning, on entering the 
library, Ironetis saw that Hermedites had 
availed himself of his leave of absence and had 
already started on the secret mission for 
Pericles. 

* * * 



[163] 



SiGNOR 

My next vision is of Aspasia and her wait- 
ing-woman, Ironetis, in earnest conversation. 

Ironetis has been weeping; often she presses 
her hand over her heart and gives a deep sigh. 
Aspasia is not deceived, but is willing to 
appear so; she has heard Ironetis' expressions 
of love for more than one man, and thinks this 
only an idle fancy — a whim, the outgrowth of 
thwarted desire for Hermedites. Still, as she 
is in the humor to see to what length her wait- 
ing-woman is willing to go to secure his affec- 
tions, she suggests different schemes to rouse 
his sympathy, saying lightly: 

"Sympathy and gratitude are the forerun- 
ners of love." 

A plan is concocted, which only awaits 
Hermedites' return in order to be put into exe- 
cution. 

I see Ironetis as she leaves her lady's room 
wipe away the crocodile tears, and, as she sees 
a young officer coming through the corridor, 
she smiles her most bewitching smile and gaily 
asks: 

"Up so early! Or has not sleep visited your 
eyelids this night?" 

"Sleep! Who would wish to sleep, could 
they but have your company, — could feast 
their eyes upon your beauty!" 

[164] 



True Nobility 

"There, there! That is enough!" and, with 
a gay nod, she trips lightly down the stairs, 
leaving him with a frown upon his brow and a 
jealous light in his eyes, which bodes her no 
good. 

* * * 

Again, the vision passes, and now I see Her- 
medites in the lower part of the city in an hum- 
ble cot, scrupulously clean. 

An old man, shaking with palsy, greets him 
as he crosses the threshold. 

"Thy mother is far spent. A day, — an hour, 
perchance, and she will not be with us. Go to 
her; she hears thy step." 

The eyes that were turned to him as he 
entered the small room spoke of one at peace 
with herself and with the world. There was a 
tenderness in her smile, only such as mothers 
know, as she said : 

"It is well, my son! The sands of life are 
running swiftly. Last night a voice did bid 
me 'Come !' I tarried, for I knew that I would 
see thee today and I want thy promise. Thy 
father will soon follow me; but there is thy 
brother and thy sister, — poor young things, — 
and I ask thy promise, knowing it will be kept, 
that while thou livest, thou wilt be both father 
and mother to them. I am proud of thee, my 

[165] 



SiGXOR 

son, and would die without a wish ungranted, 
if I could but know that Hiero and Diana 
could have an education like thine!'' 

Hermedites had taken his mother's wasted 
hand in his, feeling the death-damp upon it, 
and, in solemn tones promised that it would 
not be his fault if every wish of hers was not 
carried out to the letter. He told her — in strict 
confidence — that he was on a mission which 
would prevent him staying longer; that he 
would hasten, and, as soon as he could, he 
would attend to everything she had asked of 
him. 

Mother and son knew that they would not 
see each other again when he returned, but 
neither spoke of it; their love for each other 
was too deep. 

* * * 

As I enter into the passive mood to await 
whatever may be sent to me from the Univer- 
sal, I feel a thrill of deep sadness, and, for a 
fleeting moment, catch a glimpse of two still 
forms, knowing that they are the mother and 
father of Hermedites. Simple flowers are 
everywhere ; many neighbors are gathered to- 
gether ; but the two, — Hermedites' brother and 
sister, — are dry-eyed; yet their faces bear the 
traces of deep and poigant sorrow. 

[166] 



True Nobility 



The two forms are carried from the little 
cot and I hear loud lamentations from those 
who have known them from early youth; and 
my heart misgives me as I think of the son and 
brother far away. 

A voice tells me, that until he has time to 
care for them, that an aged woman has prom- 
ised to look after their needs. 

As this vision and voice leave, I enter once 
more into the home of Aspasia and into the 
room of Ironetis. She knows not the sorrow 
awaiting Hermedites. That which fills her 
thoughts just now is how may she win his sym- 
pathy and gratitude; for already Cupid has 
thrust a tiny dart in that which she thought 
invulnerable. 

At last she exclaims : 'T have it! A man in 
illness, who is cared for as I might care for 
him, feels not only gratitude and sympathy; 
but when brought face to face, day by day, 
hour by hour, with the one who soothes his 
pain and studies his every need, and at the 
same time is cheerful and entertaining, — 
show me the man that will not — despite him- 
self — learn the lesson of love! Surely, I have 
not lost my power to attract! Yes, the last 
plan, that my mistress, Aspasia, thought out, 

is far the best, — and I will act upon it!" 

* * * 



[167] 



SiGXOR 

When I next see Hermedites, he is once 
more with Pericles. He has not tarried on 
the way; but has sped back to Athens, not 
wholly on account of his mission, but hoping 
against hope that he should find his mother 
alive. He gains permission from Pericles to 
go to his home; after^vards he is to return to 
the librar}', where he has passed so many 
happy hours, there to await the great statesman 
and impart to him more particulars as to his 
journey. 

He knew as he came in sight of his old home, 
that she, who for years had shed sunshine and 
peace within it, was no longer there. As he 
crossed the threshold, the great stillness made 
him hesitate before entering his father's room. 
One swift glance, and he knew^ all : knew that 
he was motherless and fatherless. 

At that moment he heard his brother calling 
his sisters name; and, as he turned to re-cross 
the threshold, he met them. He went with 
them to the kind friend who had cared for 
them and arranged that for the coming month 
she would continue their care. 

When he parted from his brother and sister, 
after leaving gold to pay for their keep, he 
said: 

''I have just returned from a long journey. 
It may be that my dut}^ will call me from 
[168] 



True Nobility 



Athens for a while. Look well to thy sister 
and thy studies till I see thee again. When I 
know where I am to locate, we three will make 
our home together." 

A brief half hour he passed in his own lodg- 
ings, changing his clothing and making ready 
for his interview with Pericles. Then, with 
swift steps, he hastened to the side entrance 
that he might be in time. 

There was but little light out of doors; but 
as he stepped into the corridor, which was not 
lighted, he felt as if a gentle hand was placed 
upon his shoulder. 

Had he heeded this warning, he would have 
avoided weeks of acute pain, — weeks when 
delirium held him in its thrall; for the fever 
ran very high, and through it all, he felt as 
might one who had a race to run, which bade 
him put forth his greatest speed. So great, so 
over-powering was the feeling that he had a 
duty to perform, one in which his honor, his 
future was indissolubly bound, — that it often 
took two stout men to keep him on his couch. 

That evening, as he stepped into the corri- 
dor, his foot rested on a rough stick of wood, 
which had been placed by Ironetis in such a 
manner as to make him stumble and fall. 

I am shown, as he stepped upon it, one end 
on the floor, the other resting: on the stairs, it 



SiGNOR 

tilted, and, in his effort not to fall, it swung at 
such a sharp angle that it struck him above the 
temple and felled him to the floor. 

Hermedites made an effort to re-instate him- 
self ; but another stick, which, unfortunately, 
had a long spike in it, and which had been laid 
across the other, came in contact with his head, 
leaving an ugly gash from which the blood 
streamed profusely. The Voice tells me that 
he arrived earlier than was expected. 

An hour later, Ironetis coming down the 
stairs, expecting to find him unconscious, 
found, as she thought, a lifeless form. 

Her piercing screams brought hurrying feet 
to her assistance. Seeing that he was not dead, 
she directed that he should be carried to a 
room across the corridor from her own. A 
skillful leech was called; and for four weeks 
they fought valiantly for his recovery. 

Fever-tossed as he was, delirious for hours 
at a time, not one word of his mission or of its 
results passed his lips. It was his mother and 
Diana, his youth and his struggles for an edu- 
cation, interspersed wtih quotations from mis- 
sals, which fell upon the ears of Ironetis and 
the nurses in charge. 

Two months have passed, so I am told, when 
he is shown me again in vision. One would 
scarcely recognize him; his form is so wasted, 

[170] 



True Nobility 

his cheeks so cadaverous. Yet one who is used 
to reading the expression in the eyes and face, 
could not fail to see that his inner nature has 
been stirred; that already gratitude and sym- 
pathy have blossomed into love. 

In the sick room Ironetis was no longer the 
gay butterfly. In the eyes of Hermedites she 
looked, in her simple white robe, with her hair 
bound back by a blue fillet of ribbon, some- 
thing above a mortal woman, — just below an 
angel. 

Ironetis' wish was gratified: through her 
ministrations she had won his heart. But hand 
in hand, — both night and day, — ever by her 
side walked Fear and Remorse: fear lest he 
might learn how he came to so sore a plight; 
remorse, that hers should have been the hand 
to place the snare for his unwary feet, — to have 
occasioned the suffering which had torn her 
heart — had stolen the rose tint from her cheeks 
and lips, and taken from her the spontaneous 
gaiety — one of her chief charms. 

Ironetis was also torn with jealousy; she did 
not dare ask who this ''Diana" might be, whose 
name so often fell from the lips of Hermedites 
while in delirium. She had heard him use 
words of endearment in connection with this 
name, — words that she feared to evoke for her- 
self. 

[171] 



SiGNOR 

Before Hermedites left the sick chamber, 
he, thinking of his brother and sister, fully as 
much as of himself, asked Ironetis to become 
his wife. She readily consented. He could 
not tell why he forebore speaking of his 
brother and sister, or of the death of his par- 
ents, saying to himself: ''When our honey- 
moon is passed, I will tell her the sad story." 

As soon as he was able, he visited the modest 
home where his brother and sister now lived, 
explained his long absence, not only by his 
words, but by his changed appearance. 

* * * 

It is the second day after the union of 
Hermedites and Ironetis; the great statesman, 
Pericles, has been closeted with Hermedites 
for two hours. This time the offer, that he 
makes Hermedites, holds in it an advancement 
far beyond his wildest hopes; the only draw- 
back is, that he must leave Athens for at least a 
year, perhaps two, while he acts as private 
envoy for Pericles to certain dependencies of 
Athens. 

Hermedites knows, if he refuses, that he will 
simply throw away the chance of his life; if he 
accepts, great emolument will be his and his 
political career will be assured. He does not 
for one moment think of talking it over with 

[172] 



True Nobility 



Ironetis; for in this moment of grave decision 
he realizes how incapable she would be of 
making a wise choice. He explains to Pericles 
the promise he has made to his dying mother, 
and the man — the statesman — the nominal 
ruler of Athens gives his sacred promise, that 
he will make the orphans his special charge; 
that he, through his private purse, will defray 
the cost of their education; that he will place 
them where their advancement will be assured, 
and, later, will see to it that their future is 
cared for. 

On the strength of this promise, Hermedites 
arranged to leave Athens before sunrise the 
next morning. When the two men parted it 
was like brothers. 

Hermedites had a stormy interview with his 
newly-made wife, — at least upon her part. He 
tried to reason with her, — to explain, — to 
make her see the importance of the step he was 
about to take for their future and the lives of 
their children — should they be blessed by 
them. At last — discouraged and disheartened, 
— he left her, saying that he had important 
business requiring his attention, but would be 
back inside of two hours. 

Hermedites dreaded the parting with his 
brother and sister, but, when they learned that 
the great Pericles was to look upon them as his 



SiGNOR 



wards, their delight was unbounded. When 
he left them, their faces were smiling, not 
weeping. This helped to fortify him for his 
parting interview with his wife. 

Ironetis, in the meantime, had flown to 
Aspasia, who, knowing the nature she had to 
deal with, flattered and cajoled, showing her 
how as a matron she could enjoy great liberties, 
while on her husband's return, she would step 
into an entirely different position in society 
than she could ever expect to hold were cir- 
cumstances different. 

* * * 

Ironetis' smiling face and loving manners 
were a welcome surprise to Hermedites, and, 
when the hour came for actual parting, her 
brief shower of tears elicited from him only 
terms of endearment and promises from her 
for the future. 

* * * 

This morning, a Voice tells me what has 
transpired during the first year that Ironetis 
has been left under Asapia's care, and while 
Hermedites, not able to conclude the business 
that had been entrusted to him by the great 
Pericles, was still actively employed, striving 
to bring about diplomatic relations, requiring 
great skill and thought upon his part. 



True Nobility 



During this year, Ironetis had received but 
two letters directly from her husband. In 
these letters he said but little as to his sur- 
roundings; but dwelt especially upon his de- 
sire to have the separation come to an end; 
more than once saying, that he hoped that for 
her sake it was not as trying for her as for him. 

During the first three weeks of his absence, 
Ironetis was as faithful in thought as in act to 
the man with whom she had taken such undue 
influence to compel his love. 

Then, tired of what she called her hum- 
drum existence, she began to accept attentions, 
— first from one, and then from another of her 
old suitors, — attentions harmless in themselves, 
had she been of a different temperament. But, 
unfortunately for her, I am now shown, 
through vision and hearing, the undue influ- 
ence which the officer^ whom she had met in 
the corridor, and whom I have before seen in 
vision, gradually obtained over her. 

Lodetius, though descended from a noble 
family, with great wealth at his command, 
and, standing high in Pericles' estimation as 
an officer, from the very first had laid plans to 
carry out the evil intent regarding Ironetis, 
which even at the time of this former meeting 
was working in his brain. 

Nine months after Hermedites left Athens, 

[175] 



SiGNOR 

the leaven began to work. Fifteen miles be- 
yond the outskirts of the city, on a by-road, 
Lodetius purchased a charming retreat with 
spacious grounds, surrounded by a tall and im- 
penetrable hedge. This villa he furnished 
luxuriously. 

I am shown the two — Lodetius and Ironetis 
— on horseback ; he on a superb, black charger ; 
she on a snow-white Arabian. 

As they rode rapidly through the streets of 
Athens, more than one looked after them ; and 
here and there a knowing smile passed between 
gossips. 

Lodetius had contrived to have his horse 
grow lame just as they were passing the retreat 
of which I have spoken. Dismounting, he 
examined the horse's foot and ankle, saying, 
apparently in great concern as to the accident: 

"Were we to dismount and enter this house 
of my friend, who is now absent, so that I can 
have a lotion applied to Eleric's strained ankle, 
I feel confident that he will be able to take me 
back to the city. Fortunately, I have the keys 
of this dainty retreat in my pocket. While we 
are waiting we might amuse ourselves by look- 
ing at his fine sculptures and many articles of 
vertu scattered about. I do not know but that 
I may lease it from my friend." 

[176] 



True Nobility 



I see Ironetis dismount; see him escort her, 
with apparently great respect, through the 
rooms; then, after showing her to a dainty 
retiring-room, he said: 

^'Take this time to rest. If you wish, I will 
send something to fortify you, — wine and some 
delicate viands, — if they are to be found." 

With languorous grace Ironetis consented to 
his ordering the wine; then said, in her most 
captivating manner: 

"Why need you withdraw? Surely, if I am 
to wait here for an indefinite time, I wish to be 
amused. While you are attending to Eleric, I 
will lave my face and hands." 

* * * 

The vision passes from me; and, while I am 
waiting for its return, I hear indistinctly, — 
as though from a great distance, — voices, 
laughter, — then all is silent. 

* * * 

When the vision returns to me, I see them 
once more with their horses turned toward 
Athens. Ironetis' face is paler than is its wont, 
while Lodetius' eyes, which are somewhat 
averted, express satisfaction, as though thus 
far, his plan had worked admirably. 

During the next six months, these two, I am 
told, rode often to "The Ferns." 

[177] 



SiGNOR 

By degrees, a different expression came into 
the face of Ironetis, showing itself in her eyes 
and around her mouth. There was less of that 
gay spontaneity, and a metallic ring could 
often be detected in her laugh. Ironetis' home 
also began to change. 

About this time she received a long letter 
from Hermedites, in which three things espe- 
cially attracted her attention: the first, when 
he spoke of his return at the end of the second 
year; the next, when he said he longed to see 
Diana, who, Pericles had written him, was 
very beautiful, — even more so than when he 
left Athens; the third was, where he dwelt 
upon a fair woman, about her own age, for 
whom he was to act as escort on the way back 
to Athens. 

I am shown her as she reads this letter, and 
cannot fail to note the deathly pallor of her 
cheek at the thought of his return ; but, when 
she comes to the name of Diana, her face be- 
comes flushed and the lace handkerchief she 
holds in her hand is torn into shreds in the 
excess of her jealous fury. 

I hear these words : ^'Diana! Who is this 
Diana of whom he prates? An old love, no 
doubt. Why need I mind? I, who am so soon 
to give birth to another man's child! Had he 
stayed in Athens, where he belongs, this would 

[178] 



True Nobility 

never have occurred. I loathe Lodetius, who 
already is making arrangements to leave 
Athens just in my hour of need. Why did the 
leech fail? I have already told Aspasia that 
I am going to visit an aunt who wishes me to 
take a long journey with her. I think that she 
believes me. But who is this other woman that 
Hermedites is to escort to Athens! How do I 
know but that he has been as unfaithful to me 
as I to him! Tomorrow I must leave Aspasia. 
I will not answer this letter; he might never 
receive it. Bad fortune follows me!" 

As the sound of the voice drops from me, I 
catch a fleeting glimpse of many boxes enter- 
ing ''The Ferns," followed by Ironetis. 

The next strong, clear vision, shows me the 
two — Lodetius and Ironetis — in angry conver- 
sation. It is chiefly by gesture, by expression 
of eyes and face, that I judge what Ironetis is 
saying. 

The man seemingly pays but little attention. 
When she is through, he, without a word, 
leaves the room, throwing down a leathern bag 
of gold upon a delicately carved table. 

It is not long before I see him riding away 
on his mettlesome charger without a backward 
glance; and the Voice tells me that he has 
crossed the threshold for the last time. 

Ironetis picks up the bag, tests its weight, 

[179] 



SiGNOR 



unties the leathern thong which fastens it; and, 
while emptying its contents upon the table, sees 
a twisted note which she pounces upon eagerly. 
After reading it, in her fury, she tears it into 
small bits ; then w^ith a convulsive grasp at her 
belt, she breaks open the fastening, and, with 
a piercing scream, falls to the floor. 

^ ^ ^ 

A great wave of pity flows over me. Sight 
and hearing vanish ; and a period of six months 
intervenes. 

When I see Ironetis again, it is not in the 
luxurious retreat called 'The Ferns," but, 
strange to say, in the humble cot once owned 
bv Hermedites' father! 

There, with her babe and two maids, she 
lives in strict retirement, — a shadow of her 
former self. Nothing tells her, that this was 
the birthplace of her husband ; no premonition, 
that, some day, he, seeing her in the room in 
which his mother died, listening to her appeal 
for forgiveness, — he, so greatly wronged, 
stricken in the very citadel of his heart by her 
disclosures, — yet forgives ; forgives her un- 
faithfulness, — the dishonor that she has 
brought upon his name, — and, instead of turn- 
ing away from the helpless babe, takes it into 
his arms, looking into its face and seeing, with 

[180] 



True Nobility 



thankfulness, that it bears not a trace of like- 
ness to that of its father. 

Hermedites leaves Ironetis, promising to 
come again ; but, when she would have thrown 
her arms about his neck, — would have kissed 
him, — he gently, but firmly puts her aside, say- 
ing ''Not today." 

My next vision of him is when, without any 
explanation as to his real reason for leaving 
Athens, he refuses the high political position, 
saying simply: ''There are circumstances 
which make it impossible." 

He had seen his sister Diana, and his 
brother, and he felt that he could not ruin their 
career by his own dishonored name; so he said 
to Pericles : 

"If you deem my poor service worthy of 
more than you have already given me, grant 
me this favor, to still care for the future happi- 
ness and success of my sister and brother. I 
am leaving Athens for an uncertain period. I 
cannot explain the necessity for my going; but, 
if anything can make me happy in this world, 
it would be to know, that these two are under 
your protection. I may go to Rome, and I 
would speak to you in behalf of the young 
widow whom I have escorted to Athens. I 
would like to have her see my sister often. 
Were I to seek the world over, I could not find 

[181] 



SiGNOR 

one in whose friendship, in whose influence for 
good I put greater trust than in hers. Let me 
thank you for all you have done for my loved 
ones, and I pray the gods, that yours may be 
a long and prosperous life and that every 
blessing which heaven can give may be at your 
command!" 

* * * 

In the evening of the second day after 
Hermedites' visit to his old home, the neigh- 
bors felt some change was taking place, but, 
although they strove to find out what this 
might be, they were unsuccessful. 

Some time during the night-watches, the cot 
was deserted; and, in the early dawn, Herme- 
dites was kindness itself to Ironetis and her 
child. 

Ironetis' health was greatly impaired: re- 
morse tore at her vitals. She strove, in every 
way she could think of, to quicken into a flame 
the love, which she, woman-like, felt assured 
still held his heart. 

A year had passed; Hermedites was filling 
the position of secretary to a great lord. The 
marriage relation between himself and his 
wife had never been renewed. The depend- 
ents, not knowing any better, spoke of Ironetis 
as Hermedites' widowed sister. 

[182] 



True Nobility 

Before the second year had ended, Ironetis 
had confessed to her husband her hand in the 
severe fall which he received in the dusky cor- 
ridor. This, as well as all the rest, he forgave. 

When this life journey had come to an end 
for Ironetis, it was his hand that pressed her 
eyelids over her tired eyes. Then, after plac- 
ing the child in the care of a Roman matron, 
and, feeling himself once more free, he has- 
tened back to his beloved Athens. 

Hermedites found that there had been many 
changes during his absence; Sparta had re- 
newed her hostilities; Pericles, who had done 
so much for Athens, had been adjudged, by 
certain Athenians, as being dishonest. The 
great statesman was very ill. Athens was no 
longer what she once was. 

With Pericles' death, different factions 
arose; and Hermedites, who had lost all heart 
for a public career, after visiting his sister, who 
had married during his absence; and calling 
upon the widow, who was contemplating re- 
turning to Rhodes, he decided to once again 
act as her escort. 

Having induced his brother to seek for fame 
also in Rhodes, the three, after an affecting 
farewell with Diana, took ship, and, in due 
season,'became permanent residents of the city 
of Rhodes. 

[183] 



SiGNOR 

Hiero, who desired to become a great artist, 
applied himself closely to his art. The widow, 
who owned a delightful villa just out of the 
city, suggested that the two brothers reside 
with her. Here Hermedites caused a studio to 
be built in the grounds for his brother; while 
he from the storehouse of knowledge which he 
had laid up while in the home of Aspasia, 
applied himself for five hours each day to 
writing, and, from his keen sense of value and 
out of his suffering, he wrote three great 
treatises, which, even before his death, made 
his name famous. 

I see him with hair turned gray at the tem- 
ples, reading over some of his memoranda to 
his friend and hostess, while she sits plying her 
needle on garments for the poor. 

This night, as I see him, he looks worn and 
disturbed; he sits in an abstracted mood, not 
hearing the question that his friend has asked, 
as to whether the news which he had received 
from Rome was unpleasant. 

Gradually an expression came into his face, 
combining suffering and decision. Turning 
his face slightly away, he said : 

''I have something which I wish to tell you 
in strict confidence, — something that even my 
brother does not know. Ever since I came 
here I have been trying to make up my mind 

[184] 



True Nobility 



to tell you this. Every day I feel as if I were 
a hypocrite in not telling you. I have been a 
married man. On the second day after my 
marriage, I was obliged to leave Athens on a 
mission for Pericles. On my return, I escorted 
you to Athens. I was gone two years. During 
my absence, a child was born to my wife which 
was not mine. No one in Athens knew of my 
dishonor. I found my wife sick, friendless, 
without money, and with a child to support. I 
found her in the room where my mother died. 
My wife did not know that I had ever lived in 
this humble cot. I took her and her child to 
Rome; cared for her until her death; placed 
the child as a ward of mine in the care of a 
Roman matron whom I knew well; then 
returned to Athens. 

'^My news today informs me that the Roman 
matron is dead ; that the young girl — for she is 
no longer a child — needs my protection. She 
looks upon me as her uncle. So, you see, I 
must leave your home, — where life has been 
so pleasant, — and return to Rome, — for I gave 
my promise to the child's mother to do all that 
lay in my power to keep this terrible secret 
from her, — to provide for her; yes, — even to 
rear her as though she were of my blood. 

''I have already made arrangements to sail 
tomorrow. If aueht should happen to me on 



SiGNOR 



my journey, she will be far from penniless; 
but what can a young maiden do, — alone and 
at the mercy of the world! It may be an idle 
fancy, but once before I had a similar warn- 
ing as though my dead mother's hand rested 
on my shoulder and drew me back. As I went 
to arrange for sailing I had a similar experi- 
ence. Still, a promise made should not be idly 
broken, and a man, who assumes a duty and 
fails to do his best to perform it, is no longer 
worthy to be called a man. 

''Thus, you see, my dear friend, it is but 
right that I go, and go at once. It is hard to 
part with Hiero and with you; for I have felt 
so content; yet tomorrow will find me on my 
way. I have a great favor to ask of you. In 
my present disturbed state of mind, I scarcely 
know whether it is right to ask it of you, or not. 
It has grown upon me, the need of asking it, 
since I have been sitting here this evening. 

"If aught should happen to me, can I ask 
you to have this innocent child brought to you 
in Rhodes, — not to live in your own home, — 
that is too much to ask, but to enter some 
school, for I fear her education has been much 
neglected? She has her mother's fatal beauty 
and many of her winsome ways." 

With a deep sigh, Hermedites put his hand 
over his eyes and dropped aeain into reverie. 



True Nobility 



The confidence that her friend had reposed 
in her was a great surprise to the widow. In 
all these weeks, she, unconsciously, had formed 
for him a deep attachment. What he had just 
told her awakened within her the fact that she 
did not view him with the eyes of friendship, 
but with those of love. While he sat there in 
deep thought, she, too, was thinking deeply. 

At last, when she felt that she could control 
her voice, — could appear only the friend he 
trusted, she said : 

"Hermedites, you are weary and perplexed. 
I see no reason why you should not go for your 
ward and bring her here. I would not humor 
the thought of coming ill; but, if any thing 
should happen to you, I will myself go for her 
and bring her back with me to Rhodes. Do 
not trouble about her. I am alone in the 
world; surely, if you forgive the mother, I 
can be a mother to the child! How old is 
she?" 

"I should say, approaching her thirteenth 
birthday. Do not think me selfish, if I accept 
this favor from you. I cannot thank you; I 
can only pray the gods to keep you in watchful 
care ; to bless you ; and He, who is above all, to 
shed the sunshine of his smile upon you! I 
have decided not to tell Hiero my story. May 

[187] 



SiGNOR 

his life be happier than mine, is my earnest 
prayer/' 

It was nearing noon when Hermedites, on 
horseback, left the widow's home. His brother 
rode beside him, mounted on a magnificent 
roan, — a gift from Hermedites upon the occa- 
sion of his last birthday. 

The widow, as she stood watching him from 
the portico, felt a strange presentiment. Some- 
thing seemed to say to her: "He will return, 
but not as he is now ; for the mortal will have 
realized immortality!'' 

As the two brothers rode upon the quay, 
Hermedites' horse stepped into a hole which 
threw him onto his knees. In his frantic 
efforts to regain his footing, he threw his rider, 
and, lashing out with his hind feet one struck 
Hermedites in the temple. 

It was thus a true, noble man found peace, 
and the widow's presentiment of coming ill 
became verified. 

* * * 

What more xoble thax forgi\txess! 
He who died ox Calvary plt great stress 

UPON THE WORD 'FORGRT.' DID WE BUT HEED 
HIS TEACHINGS IX THIS RESPECT, HOW MAX^^ 
WOULD FIXD LmXG A BLESSIXG, IXSTEAD OF 
DAYS WHEX SORROW AXT) SUFFERIXG LEA\'E 
THEIR IMPRIXT. 
[188] 



True Nobility 

It is not always easy to forgive ; but the 
greater the effort to rise above self, — to 
let the soul speak, — to feel within the 
working out of that divine attribute, — 
the more it records in the subliminal 
heroism and love. 

In Hermedites, who had trusted, who 
had loved, who under all circumstances 
had been faithful, forgiveness of the 
wrong, that had been inflicted upon him, 
was not without a struggle between his 
higher nature and his lower. no doubt 
the association of thought, the realiza- 
tion of the room in which he stood, his 
thorough understanding of his mother's 
forgiving nature, unconsciously helped 
him to forgive. 

how many say with their lips, they 
forgive and, at the time, do not realize 
that it is but a surface forgiveness ! how 
often we hear these words: ''i can for- 
give, but i can never forget!" have you 
ever asked yourself, how deep can be your 
forgiveness, if you permit your thought 
after you have promised that forgiveness, 
to dwell upon the wrong which you have 
promised to forgive? 

Forgiveness, to be perfect, to be God- 
like, MUST HOLD NO ELEMENT WHICH WOULD 

[189] 



SiGNOR 



not be found in the forgiveness of god. 
This we can attain, if we realize the 
divine presence; if we trust implicitly 

in those words taught to us as LITTLE CHIL- 
dren : 'torgive us our trespasses as we 
forgive those that trespass against us." 

Man's duty to his brother man is to 
cast out hatred, — the thought of self- 
justification,— and, in its place, let love 
and forgiveness reign. 



[190] 



Visions of Two Worlds 

the captain and mate climbed the tree, called 
^^Hermon's tree," waiting for what might 
happen. 

Swiftly came the two ships, the one in pur- 
suit making no perceptible gain upon the 
other. 

The captain knew at a glance, that the 
fleeing ship was a merchantman, and, judged 
by certain indications, that the pursuer was a 
noted pirate ship. He trembled at the thought 
of what he knew would be the fate of the 
women were they discovered. 

When the merchant vessel was within 
twenty fathom lengths of the island, she made 
a detour. So rapid was the movement, so 
adroitly was she tackled, that her pursuer 
crossed her stern and came head on to the 
ledge. The force of the impact was so great 
upon the jagged rocks, that it stove in the 
ship's bow. 

The Captain of this ill-fated vessel gave the 
order to man the boats; and so eager were the 
crew to fill this order, that two of the boats 
were rendered useless. 

The men threw themselves into the sea, but 
the breakers tossed them about like shuttle- 
cocks ; and when the ship, driven back by the 
force of the breakers, foundered, which she 

[207] 



SiGNOR 



did almost immediately, they were sucked 
down into the vortex. 

The captain and a woman of rare beauty, 
who appeared on deck just before the disaster, 
were, in some seemingly miraculous manner, 
saved from sharing the fate of the crew. 

These two were found an hour later on the 
sands of the little bay, where Hermon had first 
seen indications of small boats drawn up on 
the sand. 

In vain had Yerzu striven to attract the 
attention of the merchantman; its Captain was 
too intent in saving his own ship and crew and 
the rich cargo with which the holds w^ere 
filled, and the two sea-faring men in the tree 
on the ledge were chagrined to think that this 
way of escape had slipped them. 

The vision passes, and, through the vibra- 
tion of the Inner Voice, I learn that the cap- 
tain, thought to have been a pirate, was in 
realtv" sent out to overhaul and bring back to 
port this vessel which came within an ace of 
being captured by him. In the very moment 
of congratulating himself, that the prize was 
his, the Captain of the merchantman had, with 
great skill, eluded his grasp and shown a clean 
pair of heels. 

The Captain of the pursuer, one Captain 
Lidus, told those who were marooned, that 

[208] 



Visions of Two Worlds 

another government vessel v^ould doubtless 
be sent in this direction to see what had been 
his fate, and that all they could do was to wait 
with patience for her arrival. 

Six weeks elapsed before this ship arrived; 
and, I am shown in vision, our friends and the 
captain and his wife as they sailed away from 
the island. I hear Hermon say: "It is the 
irony of fate, that on this desolate island I 
should meet the one woman, who, above all 
others, I desire to make my wife!" 

He was speaking of Floresia, a young 
maiden of their number. She, a brunette, had 
rare endowments, a highly spiritual nature, 
and a thorough education for those times; 
gentle and womanly, all that a man could 
wish, — yet, Hermon had lost his financial all 
in Palestine. He knew that, no matter how 
strong his love, his pride would prove an 
unsurmountable barrier, for he had no pros- 
pects for the future. 

On reaching Joppa, Hermon, his sister, and 
his cousin took humble lodgings. Fortunately 
Yerzu w^as able and willing to help him. 
Yerzu loved Porsinia, and was only waiting 
for that which he felt would be a fitting time 
to tell her so. 

Floresia and her mother, of whom I have 
not spoken yet, who was one of the women 

[209] 



SiGNOR 



saved, settled down in a small villa. Thus it 
was that Hermon often had the opportunity 
of seeing her, but true to his determination he 
kept the attitude of a friend, not that of a 
lover. 

Six months after arriving in Joppa, Por- 
sinia and Yerzu became man and wife, and 
Hermon continued as an inmate of their home. 
He had had early advantages, and from the 
moment, almost, that he settled in Joppa, he 
began to make scientific experiments. In two 
years' time he held a high position, where 
brains counted for more than brawn. 

Feeling that his future was assured, he went 
to Floresia's mother, asking permission to pay 
his addresses to her daughter. That evening 
he won the consent of the woman of his choice, 
and, although he plead for an early day on 
which to make her his wife, Floresia thought 
it better to wait another year. 

Among the other women, who had been 
marooned on the island, were two sisters and 
their mother; also a cousin of Floresia. These 
three young women and the mother of the two 
had kept up an acquaintance with the captain 
and his wife, who had been washed up on the 
sands of the little bay. 

Miriam, the cousin, was rather plain; a 
habitual scowl between the eves gave her the 

[210] 



Visions of Two Worlds 

appearance of an envious, fault-finding dis- 
position; and it was a true index of her char- 
acter. She was an orphan and wealthy, and 
had an overweening estimation of herself. 

The two sisters were blondes; vivacious, 
intelligent. Their life work had been laid out 
for them while yet they were children. Their 
mother, a woman of determined will, despite 
the many suitors who had asked consent to 
woo her daughters, had always made it clear 
that neither of them could marry. 

These sisters were skillful with the needle, 
and Hermon and Porsinia often wondered at 
their wonderful execution in tapestry work. 
Porsinia, going a little farther than her 
brother, wondered what would be the final 
destination of all this intricate needlework; 
but mother and daughters kept their own 
council. 

Before the year had passed, the mother of 
Floresia entered into her rest, and Floresia 
invited her cousin Miriam to make her home 
with her. 

I am shown the two during the first few 
days of this arrangement, and see beneath the 
surface of things, that Floresia is often made 
uncomfortable by words dropped by Miriam. 

In less than a month, the home life had 
become so disturbed, so unlike what it was 

[211] 



SiGNOR 



previous to her cousin making a part of it, 
that one evening Floresia spoke to Hermon in 
regard to it. Again he urged her to be 
married, and that at once; but this, she told 
him, was impossible. 

Hermon grew restive. Miriam met him, — 
as if by accident — and each time this occurred, 
she managed to drop a word or a sentence, 
which added to his unhappiness. 

One evening, meeting Captain Lidus and 
his wife, they urged Hermon to come and dine 
with them. After the dinner, as they sat 
talking in the moonlight on the broad portico, 
the captain asked: 

"What is troubling you, Hermon? You do 
not appear like yourself." 

"Yes, Hermon, tell us the cause of your pale 
cheeks and distraught manner! I suspect the 
cause. It is Miriam! She was born a mischief 
maker; I know her of old. We have never 
told you, but some years before the shipwreck, 
we met her in Troy. At that time we were not 
married, and she came near wrecking our 
happiness by her sly speeches. I will not go 
into particulars; but, if I am not mistaken, 
she is attempting the same thing with you and 
Floresia. I have been tempted to speak to 
her; but the Captain advised me not to inter- 
fere. He is a firm believer of good in every- 

[212] 



Visions of Two Worlds 

one ; also, that if two, such as you and Floresia, 
are reaching out for that which uplifts, harm 
from the tongue of an idle woman may cause 
temporary unhappiness, but the lesson learned 
through such an experience, in the end, makes 

happiness assured. 

* * * 

The things which have been given me, 
through vision and through the Inner Voice, 
convey but a faint idea of the daily experi- 
ences which make up the warp and woof of 
those whose lives in this especial incarnation 
have influenced each other. 

Hermon had been wonderfully successful 
from a financial standpoint; for, in his scien- 
tific pursuits, he had accidentally stumbled 
upon a demonstrable effect, which gave prom- 
ise of revolutionizing sanitation, and, at the 
same time, would be of inestimable benefit to 
mankind. 

This invention was to take advantage of 
certain natural forces, and, by blending them 
through a simple machine which he had 
designed, one would be able to so purify the 
air from certain malarial tendencies, that the 
health would not only be greatly improved, 
but the morasses would become a thing of the 
past and certain pestilential insects become 
extinct. Thus, the whole adjacent country 

[213] 



SiGNOR 

would be made healthful, and, in the revolu- 
tionizing process, man would bless his name. 

Twins had been born to Porsinia and Yerzu, 
both boys; and the mother had insisted, that 
they should be named, one for her husband, 
the other for her brother. It was at their 
christening that Floresia said "yes" to Her- 
mon's importunities; and three months later 
they were married. 

When Floresia suggested to her cousin 
Miriam, that she buy the villa, saying "Her- 
mon is building" ; she was highly incensed and, 
within a week, had left her cousin in the midst 
of her preparations, with these parting words: 

"Remember what I say, Floresia: there will 
be no happiness in your marriage ; he is untrue 
to you in thought and act; and a man who is 
thus before marriage, what can be expected of 
him afterwards?" 

Floresia made no reply to what she knew to 
be untrue, and Miriam left Joppa in high 
dudgeon. 

The marriage took place at the home of 
Captain Lidus, whose wife had urged Floresia 
to accept this at their hands, saying: "Our 
rooms are so much larger than yours or Por- 
sinia's, and we both think so much of you and 
Hermon. He has such a large circle of 



[214] 



Visions of Two Worlds 

friends; you will find our house none too 
commodious for the occasion." 

* * * 

Five years later, a letter came to Floresia 
from her cousin Miriam; a letter from her 
death-bed, — full of repentance for the wrong 
she had striven to do her. Floresia and Her- 
mon, in their great happiness, wrote a full 
forgiveness. 

Three children had been born to them 
during these five years. Prosperity smiled 
upon them; and, as I am shown, the five, — 
father, mother and children, — lived to a ripe 
old age. 

The closing of this incarnation holds 
words of great significance, when one 
stops to think of their true meaning. 
The word ''ripe" should indicate, that 
the years passed had been fruitful in 
experience; that each lesson had been 
active in bringing about the result 

WHICH ALL MANKIND SHOULD DESIRE. IT IS 

open to all, not only to make the exist- 
ence on the physical plane prolonged, 
but to gain out of each day that, which 
shall count for good before the state of 
transition is reached. 

He, who has acquired much in any one 
incarnation, which makes for growth 

[215] 



Visions of Two Worlds 

has climbed many rounds of the ladder; 
overcome karma, — if not fully, at least 
in a great measure, — and has found, 
when entering that other state of exist- 
ence, which brings him in touch even- 
tually with spiritual consciousness, 
that he has not only lived for self but 
for his fellow men. 

When it can be said that one lives ''to 
a ripe old age," the words should signify 
that one has accomplished the work 
here intended as preparatory to greater 

FRUITION. The example of such a PERSON 

lives in the hearts of his priends ; in 
strong, helpful thought- waves which 
reach out to the race and unite with the 
vibration of every similar thought, ac- 
complishing unlimited good. 

It is not always the man or woman, 
who has studied deeply into the mys- 
teries of the past, that is the most help- 
ful to mankind; but it is the meek and 
the humble; the patient and the persev- 
ering in the right course. 

Then is it not wise, is it not being true 
to the diviner part of our nature to make 
each day a milestone on which might be 
read: ''i have honestly striven, this day, 
to do my best?" 

[216] 



Visions of Two Worlds 
Thus man reaches attainment; thus 

HE DESERVES TO BE SPOKEN OF AS ^^RIPE" ; 
THUS, IN DUE TIME, EACH CIRCLE, EACH INCAR- 
NATION, EACH HONEST EFFORT IN THE RIGHT 
DIRECTION CAN BE SEEN BY THE COLORS WHICH 
HE RADIATES FROM HIS AURA, AND THE STATE 
OR PLANE, WHETHER IT BE OF THE PHYSICAL, 
OF THE ASTRAL, OR THE MENTAL — WHICH I 
TERM ''SPIRITUAL CONSCIOUSNESS' —HELPS 
HIM THROUGH THE SOUL'S GROWTH TO COME 
INTO PERFECT AT-ONE-MENT WITH THE SOURCE 
OF ALL BEING. 



[217] 



AFTERWORD 



To those who have read my first book of this 
series and found in its pages thoughts bene- 
ficial and interesting, I trust that SIGNOR, 
the second of my series, will prove helpful and 
entertaining. 

In this book, I have striven, through calls 
upon the Universal Memory, vision, hearing, 
and the Inner Voice, to lead my readers into 
the Astral realms and make them acquainted 
with the individual ''I," the Soul nature. 
Color, cycles and aura prove a guide to those 
whose intuition, — keen in its perception and in 
tune with the finer vibrations, — has revealed 
many things not understood even in the present 
day. 

Each incarnation teaches a lesson, and 
Signor, through his harmonious relation to 
Spiritual Consciousness, through the teachings 
of Father Gorgista and the Egyptian, Aros, 
had so quickened to all things spiritual, that 
what he taught came not from experiences on 
the earth plane, but from his ability to let his 
soul nature visit other worlds, to penetrate 



[218] 



Afterword 



certain spheres beyond the Astral, and then to 
return to give forth what he had learned. 

In the third book of this series, I shall hope 
to lift my reader into a clearer conception of 
the subjects of which I have written, and to 
reveal more of those factors vital to the carry- 
ing out of God's plan for mankind. 

The liberal patronage and favorable critic- 
isms that Sojourners by the Wayside is 
receiving give me confidence to put forth this, 
the second of this series, knowing that, if the 
public is pleased with the first of the series, it 
will find in SIGNOR inspiration which will 
be as a Light on the Path. 



"O boundless life, I am a part of thee; 
I feel thy life blood coursing through my veins; 
And, as I look upon thy varied forms 
They speak of something that's akin to me. 
The trees look down upon me in their strength; 
The beauteous flowers look upward from below; 
The sound of insects and the song of birds, 
The mute appeal of animals that look 
Into our faces with a look that seems 
To speak of love and trust and confidence. 
So like ourselves that we are wont to feel 
That something almost human lives within — 
All tell me of the universal life 
That's one, the same, in every living thing." 



—Everett O. Wood. 




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